


Ignis Aurum Probat

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: All Creatures Great and Small (TV), All Creatures Great and Small - James Herriot
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm a sucker for the trope, brief mentions of blood and injuries, what can i say, yes classic "characters in peril" fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: An accident leaves Siegfried and Tristan trapped in the middle of nowhere. But that is only the beginning of their problems....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When re-watching parts of Season One here recently, I got to thinking about how it did seem like there was a gradual shift during the early seasons in how Siegfried and Tristan got along with each other with there being more respect and open affection over time. 
> 
> Thus, I was inspired to write a fic about what might have ignited that shift in the first place. Time-line wise, this takes place after Practice Makes Perfect (Episode 1.12) but before Breath of Life (Episode 1.13).

“Tristan? Tristan! I have a job for us.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and blew smoke out of pursed lips. He was currently sitting in the living room with his legs up on the couch, paging through one of his veterinary textbooks. He had thought about going out with James to the Drovers after lunch as it was his afternoon off. James, however, mentioned catching up with Helen in-between jobs so Tristan decided to spend his time getting some extra swotting in.

His brother, however, appeared to have other plans for him.

A few seconds later, Siegfried burst into the room. “Ah there you are. Idling your time away as usual, I see.”

Tristan frowned and reached over to snuff the remains of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “Hardly idling, Siegfried.” He held up his book to emphasize his point.

“If only I could believe that you were actually reading that book instead of using it as a sleeping aid,” Siegfried replied. “Well, no matter. If you’re really looking to enrich your veterinary knowledge, I’ve got just the thing. Some real practical experience. And this sounds like it could be an interesting case. A horse that’s having problems walking and has been gaining weight even after cutting back her feed and increasing her exercise. Happened fairly quickly from what I’ve been told. And I’ve been meaning to get you involved in more horse jobs for a while now.”

Tristan let out a half-hearted sigh, mainly for show. The case actually did sound interesting, and it wasn’t often that Siegfried would invite him on one of his horse jobs. Besides, he was sure that he would have eventually fallen asleep if he had spent the entire afternoon reading that book anyway. Learning out of in the field was always better, especially if Siegfried was there to guide him through. Not that he was going to tell his brother that.

He tossed his book onto the coffee table and stood up. “All right, where are we going?”

Siegfried smiled at him. “That’s the spirit. Yes, we’re going to see, um….” He pulled down his sleeve to consult the scrawls on his wrist. “Yes, Mr. Henry Gibbs. He bought old Pete Barlow’s farm after Pete moved away to live with his sister. Anyway, he and his wife moved in about three months ago. Seems like a decent enough fellow. Pretty well to do, from what I gather. And I understand he and his workers have already done a lot with the place.”

“Barlow’s place?” Good grief, that’s miles away, Siegfried.”

“Precisely why we need to get going as soon as possible.” Siegfried had just stepped back into the hall and was heading toward surgery when he paused and turned toward the kitchen. “Mrs. Hall? There’s a good chance we won’t be back in time for dinner tonight.”

Mrs. Hall did not appear, but a voice called back from the kitchen. “Aye, well, I’ll keep summat back for when you do get back. Just in case.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Hall,” Siegfried grinned. Then he turned his attention back to Tristan. “Well come on then, little brother. We need to get going if we’re to get back at a respectable hour.”

Tristan nodded and trotted toward surgery behind his brother to grab some things of his own. He didn’t really relish the idea of missing dinner tonight. The ham that Mrs. Hall had been fussing over all day did look awfully good. Then again, if the Gibbs were as well off as Siegfried was implying, perhaps they’d have something special on their dinner table. And it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade them to share a meal with some poor, hard-working vets if it did get very late. The Farnon charm rarely went without any positive results.

He smiled to himself, making sure to hide it from Siegfried, of course, lest his brother got the wrong idea. Yes, this day out could turn out to be quite profitable after all.

* * *

 

Six hours later, Tristan wondered how on Earth he could have ever believed that he would even remotely enjoy coming along for this job.

While they were driving up to Gibbs’ farm, someone had allowed the horse that was in need of treatment to get loose from its stall. At first, it hadn’t been able to get very far due its current lameness. But then it was spooked by someone shooting at a stray dog that was trying to sneak onto the property. The horse panicked and galloped straight into a barbwire fence.

As a result, it was bleeding badly from a long, deep gash in its leg by the time Siegfried drove into the driveway. Siegfried spent several seconds expressing his anger over the shabby minding the horse had received before plunging right into an emergency operation. Fortunately, Tristan had brought along extra supplies just in case, and Siegfried actually appeared grateful for his assistance.

Unfortunately, their problems did not end there. Once they were able to stitch up the leg, Siegfried was forced to confess his uncertainty over whether the horse would ever be able to walk again. Then, after a careful examination, they discovered the malady that had gotten them called out in the first place.

Which turned out to be even more bad news.

“Equine metabolic syndrome, I’m afraid,” Siegfried told Mr. Gibbs. “Ordinarily, I would recommend a strict diet and exercise program to see if that would do the trick, but you’ve let this go too long. Now, she’s developed laminitis and that complicates things.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Farnon?” Gibbs asked. “I know laminitis can be treated.”

“Yes, but you’ve got a very sick animal here, Mr. Gibbs,” Siegfried replied. “I might be able to treat the laminitis or the metabolic syndrome on its own. However, with that gash on her leg on top of all that….”

“Yes? Go on.”

“Let me be clear, Mr. Gibbs. That leg is going to make it impossible for me to treat the underlying cause of her laminitis which means it could get worse or keep coming back. Now, Tristan and I were able to take care of that injury, but there is still the possibility that she’ll be permanently lame. Put it all together…and I’m afraid there’s only one thing that we can do. The merciful thing.”

“What, put her down?! But I just bought her a year ago. She cost quite a bit of brass. And despite what the locals around here seem to think, I don’t have that sort of money to just toss around.”

“An understandable frustration, Mr. Gibbs,” Siegfried said coolly. “However, waiting will not change the outcome in this case. It will just delay the inevitable and add to her pain.”

Gibbs stared at him for a long, hard minute before finally heaving out a great sigh.

“All right, Mr. Farnon. Let’s see to her then.”

Siegfried gave him a stern nod and then went back to the car to get the humane killer he’d left in there. Tristan couldn’t help but think that there was a bitter irony in the fact that all their hard work to save that poor animal was about to be undone in less than a minute.

* * *

 

Afterward, the mood around the farm was quiet and tense. Siegfried and Tristan were invited in for tea which they accepted gratefully. The stilted conversation they had during their tea time indicated that Gibbs and his wife held no ill will toward the two vets and did not blame them for the loss of their horse. Still, it was also clear that they hadn’t entirely been sold on the value of their services either.

Once tea was over, Siegfried excused the two of them before they could be invited to dinner, much to Tristan’s consternation.

As they were driving back toward Darrowby, Tristan continued to frown each time his stomach rumbled, an expression that did not escape Siegfried’s notice.

“Now stop pouting. You wouldn’t have wanted to eat there anyway,” he said. “I happened to catch a glimpse of their kitchen when I went to scrub up before tea and saw the mess they were making in there. It was the most awful hodgepodge of cuisines: Mediterranean style fish, spicy rice dishes from the Orient, vegetables stewed in some kind of hot sauce. Honestly, what sort of mind would conceive of assembling a menu like that?”

“Maybe they’re an adventurous sort,” Tristan said. “It might have been fun to have an international potluck. Better than a cold dinner at home at any rate.”

“My dear boy, a palate that would accept such a mishmash of flavors cannot be trusted,” Siegfried replied. “Especially in regards to the quality of their cooking. No, we are much better off going straight home.”

Tristan huffed and collapsed back against his seat. He knew the real reason why Siegfried had taken off so quickly after tea. The death of that horse. Tristan was absolutely certain that Siegfried had done everything possible to save it and had not made a single misstep. Granted, he wasn’t a qualified vet, but he had enough experience to know that there was nothing else that could have been done to save it.

Still, he knew that Siegfried hated to lose a patient. Especially a horse. And even more especially such a fine horse as that mare.

“It’s too bad I couldn’t have had James with me,” Siegfried said with a pointed sigh. “He’s getting quite adept with horses. Maybe if I had had a knowledgeable second opinion.”

Tristan tightened his jaw. He knew that Siegfried was upset. He also knew that when his brother was upset, he was prone to trying to goad him into a quarrel. Siegfried had been that way ever since Tristan reached his teens, and Tristan knew that none of it was meant to be taken seriously. Consequently, he was aware that he should just ignore Siegfried and not take the bait.

However, another rumble of hunger from his stomach put him completely out of the mood for patience.

“Why bother to drag me along then if I’m so useless to you?” he grumbled.

“For the experience, Tristan,” Siegfried said with clear exasperation. “I thought that was obvious by now. Although, I’m not sure why I bother either at times. It appears you have little interest in actually applying yourself to your studies.”

“That’s damn well not fair,” Tristan snapped. “You know very well that I was swotting. On my afternoon off no less. At least, I was until you ordered me to come with you for this job.”

“My dear boy, there’s a difference between browsing through a textbook with casual interest and truly committing yourself to absorbing the information therein,” Siegfried said in the same overly patient, condescending tone. “The results from your recent finals make it quite clear that you mainly dwell on the former and do little of the latter.”

“I did study,” Tristan insisted. “I studied bloody hard for those exams whenever I could get away from those ridiculous revision sessions of yours.”

That was the wrong thing to say, and Tristan regretted it the moment those words left his lips. The look of mounting rage on Siegfried’s face was confirmation of that.

“Oh, I see. Ridiculous were they?” his brother said, his voice rising in volume. “That’s gratitude. There I was, already trying to cope with a mountain of work with James and Helen off on their honeymoon and yet I still used what little spare time I had to help you prepare for your exams. And that’s on top of the years I’ve spent training you and helping you acquire practical experience. Not to mention all the money I’ve poured into your education. And for what? So you could fail again? So you could fritter away your time boozing and chasing women?”

Tristan ground his jaw, but remained silent during his brother’s tirade. It seemed Siegfried would never forgive him for not spending every waking moment with his nose stuck in a book or working on a job for the practice.

Sure, he could have tried to explain again that it had just been nerves that led to his recent downfall on his exams, but he knew that Siegfried wouldn’t listen. As far as his elder brother was concerned, an occasional night out with the Darrowby Bell Ringers meant he was a hopeless alcoholic. Having some harmless fun with a few girlfriends he liked to pal around with meant that he was an incorrigible womanizer. And all of it put together meant that he couldn’t possibly be taking his veterinary studies seriously or that he sincerely wanted to become qualified.

It was dammed unfair. All of it. And Tristan couldn’t see a way to get Siegfried to understand his point of view.

Siegfried ranted on for several more minutes, but Tristan only barely listened. He had heard all of this more than once over the last couple of weeks after Siegfried found out about the results from his latest round of finals.

Granted, this last time, Siegfried never got as enraged as Tristan knew he might have become. His scheme to soften the blow with his short-lived and very tiring reform act had been moderately successful. Still, after the truth came out, there were a couple of times when Tristan wondered if he should have just let Siegfried have his big blowout, allowing the chips to fall where they may.

It probably would have meant the two of them parting ways, but during these last couple of weeks, Tristan did question if that would have been such a bad thing.

Siegfried finally wound down and became silent while Tristan felt a tight knot forming inside him. There had been one or two times in the past when he’d considered tossing his life in Darrowby aside and seeking his fortune elsewhere. Those thoughts always came to him in the heat of anger and would disappear within minutes.

But right now, Tristan wondered if he should pay more attention to those ideas. Maybe his current tension with Siegfried was a sign that they were never going to get along very well anymore. Maybe his continued struggles with his exams were a hint that he wasn’t cut out for this line of work after all. Not that he knew where he would go or what he should do instead. Still, not knowing those things right now didn’t mean he should automatically assume that the life he currently had was the one that he was best suited for.

A wave of frustration mixed with wistfulness washed over Tristan, leaving him even more morose than when Siegfried was yelling at him. He supposed he could find other ways of making a living, but he couldn’t imagine that they’d be as interesting and satisfying as his veterinary work usually was. That is, when he was allowed to actually do that sort of work.

He also could leave Darrowby, but he’d miss it in no time. He’d miss the sometimes maddening and yet quant farmers, the colorful characters in the village and the regulars at the Drovers. He’d miss Helen, one of the sweetest women he had ever met who he considered like a sister. He’d miss James, his best friend and the first really close friend he’d ever had. He’d miss Mrs. Hall with her scolding, her lovely food and her kindly aunt-like qualities.

Then there was Siegfried. His older brother was impossible, irritating, and notoriously difficult to please. However, more than anyone else, he knew about the other side of Siegfried’s nature. About the compassionate and understanding big brother who had taken him in and cared for him during the hardest parts of his childhood. About the father figure and mentor who had been responsible for him and had guided him toward success in school and then in veterinary college.

Sure, Tristan was aware that he had done most of the work himself of growing up and building a list of achievements. But that didn’t change the fact that Siegfried had stood behind him every step of the way, ready to provide whatever support was needed whenever his own fortitude was about to give out.

Tristan let out a quiet sigh. The fact of the matter was, he loved his life, his work, his friends, and yes, his brother as well. He just wasn’t always sure if that love was enough.

“What was that?”

Tristan was shaken out of his gloomy reverie by Siegfried’s sudden inquiry. He looked around, but couldn’t fathom what his brother was talking about.

“What do you mean?” Tristan looked out his window. “I don’t see anything.”

Siegfried pulled the car off the main road and went a few yards down a dirt path before stopping the car and parking it. Then he got out and stared across a field that sloped up into steeper hills.

“There!” Siegfried said, pointing toward a fence a couple hundred yards away. “There, do you see it?”

Tristan got out of the car and squinted into the distance. He was just about to ask again about what Siegfried was talking about when movement caught his eye.

“Yes, I see it. It’s a horse, isn’t it? What’s a horse doing all the way out here on its own?”

“You see how it’s dappled,” Siegfried said. “It’s got to be that horse Charlie Kemp lost. You remember, he said that his horse had gotten loose from its cart not too far from this area three days ago.”

“Looks like it’s hurt from the way it’s walking,” Tristan said.

“Yes, and I bet we can catch up with it,” Siegfried said. He leaned back into the car and pulled out his bag. “Come on, get the rope and your things too. We’ll get that horse, patch it up, leave it here closer to the road and then let Charlie know where he can pick his horse up.”

“Oh come on, Siegfried. It’ll….”

“Stop whining, Tristan,” Siegfried snapped. “That horse needs our help. Now, come on.”

Siegfried marched out onto the field. Tristan sighed and grabbed the things Siegfried wanted from the car. Deep down, he agreed that they should try to do something to help the poor creature. But he was also enough of a realist to see that this could lead to a bunch of fruitless running around.  

Tristan let out one more huff of frustration before slinging the coil of rope onto his shoulder and running after Siegfried.


	2. Chapter 2

James Herriot pulled his car into the alley behind Skeldale house, feeling more exhausted than he had in a long while.

It started with the list of jobs Siegfried had given him for the day. The list had been quite long, but Siegfried had insisted that most of them would only take a few minutes.

Surprisingly, for most part, Siegfried turned out to be completely accurate in that assessment: inoculating a placid sow, giving an injection to a cow as part of an ongoing treatment, and checking on a dog to makes sure she was still doing well after giving birth. James managed to breeze through most of the list quickly and started to think he’d be able to finish early and take Tris up on his previous offer of a quick pint at the Drovers after all.

But then came the last two jobs on the list.

First there was a flock of sheep that was thought to maybe have mastitis. Problem was, Doyle, who owned the sheep, also couldn’t be bothered to gather them from the field for examination before James arrived. It meant a lot of walking and sometimes sprinting before James discovered that most of them were simply suffering from pasture bloat.

Then came the calving. Originally, James hadn’t been called out to tend to a calving. The cow wasn’t due to deliver for another week or two and he was just there to make sure that a leg that had been stitched had healed properly. However, just before he could walk out of the barn, James noticed the tell-tale signs of labor beginning and difficult labor at that.

When James reached inside to begin assisting the calf into the right position for birth, he was dismayed to discover that it was in the hip flexion position, meaning that the head was the wrong way and the back legs weren’t even facing outward. James strained to re-position the back legs so he could attach a line and pull the calf out. Not that it was easy with the cow already struggling to push the calf out herself.

It also didn’t help that the cow’s owner, George Potter, wasn’t exactly confident of his veterinary skills.

“Listen here, young man, that cow cost me quite a bit of brass. She’s a good milker. Always has been. So you better be sure of what you’re doing in there. I’ll not have me good cow ruined just because some fancy young veterinary doesn’t know when to call in his boss for help.”

This tirade continued for the entire time that James worked on the cow. Oddly enough, he was somewhat grateful for the difficulty involved with the job because it made it far easier to ignore Potter and concentrate on the task at hand.

Hours later, James finally succeeded in delivering a healthy calf and had stabilized the mother. For a moment, he did worry that the uterus would prolapse which would mean that he’d have to spend even more hours putting her calf bed back in, but so far, there had been no signs of that happening. After a job like that, James felt a satisfaction which helped to take some of the sting out of the backhanded expressions of gratitude Potter had for him.

“At least you didn’t kill her, veterinary, I’ll give you that. Though, I suppose this means I should be expecting an even larger bill from you.”

It was enough to put James in a less than congenial mood for his entire drive home. The quiet beauty of the fells he passed on the way there did soothe his irritation some. However, his mood did not improve when he got back to Skeldale House and couldn’t find Siegfried or Tristan in the surgery or anywhere else nearby.

Just as he was about to go upstairs to look for them, Helen came down to greet him, a smile on her face.

“Hello, darling,” she said, immediately giving him a kiss and a hug when she met up with him. After the kiss, she studied his face. “Was it a bad day?”

James gave her a lopsided smile and kissed her back. “Not most of it, no. Just a couple of the usual sort of troublemakers who make life hard for all vets. Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

“Or that you’ll have to handle again,” Helen laughed. She gazed into his eyes for another moment before finally letting him go. “I can make you some tea, if you’d like. And Mrs. Hall has some cakes put aside.”

“Good, because I’m famished,” James said. “By the way, where’s Siegfried? Or Tris for that matter. I can’t find them anywhere.”

“I haven’t seen either of them since the first couple of hours of morning surgery myself,” Helen said. “I assumed they were out on some jobs.”

“If you’re looking for Mr. Farnon or Mr. Tristan, don’t bother,” Mrs Hall said as she appeared in the hallway behind them. “Mr. Farnon was called out to Gibbs’ place about a horse and he took Mr. Tristan with him. Said they might not be back ‘til late.”

“Which means I’m stuck with evening surgery,” James sighed. Granted, he was originally supposed to take it on anyway, but he had hoped to persuade Tris to take it in exchange for handling the late call-outs tonight.

“Oh James I know,” Helen said. “But at least Siegfried is taking Tris with him to help out on jobs. For a while there, I was starting to wonder if he would ever do that again.”

“No, you’re right about that,” James said. “This probably is a good thing even if it does mean facing another rush of people after the awful calving I just handled.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Helen laughed again while patting his shoulder. “Siegfried ended up canceling morning surgery early today because it was so slow and there hasn’t been a soul by since. So how about I make that tea and bring it in to you while you put your feet up?”

“That sounds marvelous,” James grinned. “I’ll go check on the surgery.”

James gave her one more kiss before walking away. He looked in on the waiting room and found it as empty as Helen predicted it would be. He sat down and scribbled some entries into the log book and tossed the fees he had collected into the petty cash box before leaning back in his chair.

After Tristan had failed his exams this last time, James had wondered how long it would take for peace to return to Skeldale. Even after his cunning scheme to put himself in Siegfried’s good graces, Tris had only delayed and softened the inevitable hostile confrontation rather than curtail it.

Instead of the expected explosion of fiery temper and harsh words, there had been an unnerving tension around the practice. Siegfried and Tristan barely spoke to each other and would often refuse to acknowledge each other’s presence. Both of them made sure to be out whenever the other one had to man the surgery or be available for call-outs. Even talking to one of them in the other one’s presence was problematic which made meal times nearly silent, joyless affairs. Eventually, James and Helen made a habit of retreating to their room the moment they finished their meal rather than linger for any longer than necessary.

James leaned back in his chair even more and propped his feet up on a corner of the desk. It had been difficult to live at Skeldale while this was going on and he had been sorely tempted to have a conversation with one or both of them about how this couldn’t continue.

Just as he had worked up the nerve to do it, however, a thaw finally appeared in their relations. One morning, Siegfried had expressed concern that Tris looked wan and wasn’t getting enough rest. This led to Siegfried making the generous offer of taking his brother’s scheduled evening call outs so Tristan could get some additional sleep. This kind gesture was enough to inspire Tristan to resume his efforts to apologize to Siegfried for failing his exams again and to apply himself even more to his swotting.

It was a small start, but it was also a relief to everyone else in the house who could now look forward to things beginning to return to normal.

The fact that Siegfried was taking Tris along for a horse job was another positive sign. That it happened on an afternoon that Tristan had off was even more encouraging as it meant that Siegfried probably did it mainly to give Tristan an opportunity to get some more practical experience and instruction. Which further indicated that Siegfried still had faith that Tris would become qualified at some point.

It also meant that it would be up to Tris at this point to come through with his studies. James was sure that Tristan could succeed if he tried hard enough. He just wasn’t as sure how he, Siegfried or anyone else could help Tris get past the stumbling blocks that he kept running into with his finals.

“Here you go,” Helen said as she came into the surgery with a cup of tea in one hand and a little plate of cakes in the other. James accepted all of it with a grin.

“Thanks, darling.” He took a sip of his tea before setting his things down and pulling Helen over so he could get her to sit in his lap.

Deep down, James knew that he wouldn’t give up his busy, chaotic life at Skeldale for anything in the world. Still, it was moments like this that made it easy for him to remember that fact.

* * *

 

Back out in the fields just outside Darrowby, Tristan kept eyeing the dark clouds that were creeping across the sky. Mrs. Hall had said something about how it might rain at breakfast. After spending the last several minutes running and cursing after that blasted horse, the last thing he wanted to think about was getting rained on as well.

Unfortunately, his ruminations also meant that he wasn’t watching as closely as he should have been during their latest attempt to corner that horse and get a rope onto it. Specifically, he hadn’t noticed the patch of boggy land that Siegfried had been backing into. That is, not until Siegfried ended up flopping down into the swampy mud.

Tristan’s entire body vibrated, his lips wobbling, as he tried to hold in his laughter. It wouldn’t be good to let out even one chuckle while Siegfried was glaring at him, pulling himself out of the muck. By the time he got out of it, Siegfried’s suit was soaked and splashed with mud.

“Tristan…bring that rope over here,” Siegfried growled.

Tristan coughed and edged toward Siegfried, making sure to not startle the horse that was only a couple of yards away. Once Siegfried had the rope in his hands, he motioned for Tristan to hold the horse’s attention while he approached from the side. Thankfully, this time, the horse cooperated and Siegfried was able to tie the rope around the horse’s neck and hand off the lead to Tristan while he knelt down and began examining it.

After that, treatment only took a few minutes. Just long enough to put some plaster on the leg that appeared lame. While Siegfried worked, Tristan pulled out his handkerchief and reached down to brush caking patches of dirt from his brother’s clothes.

“There,” Siegfried said once he had finished. “That should hold him until he can be taken back to his barn to rest. Now, we just need to find a place to keep him until Kemp can pick him up.”

“What about that barn over there?” Tristan asked, pointing off to their left. Siegfried raised his head to look while rising to his feet.

“Excellent idea, Tristan,” Siegfried said, giving his brother’s arm a quick pat. “Right, let’s get him over there before this weather has a chance to become unpleasant.”

The two of them trotted over to the abandoned barn, making sure not to go too fast so as to not exacerbate the horse’s injury.

As they got closer, however, the barn didn’t look like such a promising prospect after all. The roof was patchy with multiple holes along the edges. The walls sagged, the wood having started to warp, and there were cracks large enough for a person to put their arm through. The doors shuddered and swayed in the strong breeze that had picked up. A mournful creaking accompanied their movement.

“I doubt we can safely place that horse in here,” Siegfried said with a frown. “It looks like it will fall apart with the first good wind that hits it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Tristan agreed, sighing. “Well, maybe we can tie him to that bit of fence next to it. That should be good enough for now, shouldn’t it?”

Siegfried looked over at the dilapidated fence Tristan had indicated. It wasn’t in much better shape than the barn, but at least there was no danger if the fence happened to give out before someone returned for the horse.

“Yes, I suppose it will have to do,” Siegfried said. “Come on, help me get him over there and then we’ll….”

Suddenly, a loud crack filled the empty silence around them. Tristan couldn’t quite make out what it was or where it had come from. A shot from a farmer’s rifle? A tree falling somewhere in the distance? Or even a car spluttering on a road parallel to them?

Whatever it had been, it was enough to startle the horse so that it yanked itself away from the grip Siegfried had had on its lead.

“Damn and blast!” Siegfried fumed. “Tristan! Catch it!”

Tristan dashed over and tried to grab the rope before the horse got too far away, but had only managed to snatch it up for a second before it was wrenched from his hands, leaving rope burns on his fingers. Then the horse reared up and galloped into the barn. Tristan gritted his teeth and rushed in after it.  

“No, Tristan!” Siegfried shouted at him. “Are you mad? Get out of there!”

Tristan ignored him. He was tired, hungry and irritable and all he wanted to do right now was catch this horse so he could tie it up and they could go home. Then he could spend some time alone. Or, at the very least, he could get away from Siegfried for a while. Thus, he chased that horse down with far more determination than was usual for him.

Inside the barn, the horse pranced back and forth, dodging Tristan’s attempts to corner it. However, it wasn’t long before it began to tire, the injury it had received eventually slowing it down. As a result, Tristan was able to bide his time until he made a desperate leap toward the lead rope and grab hold of it with both hands.

“I’ve got it!” he shouted with a triumphant grin. “I’ve got it, Siegfried.”

“Tristan, you maniac!” Siegfried yelled back as he stomped into the barn. “It’s not safe in here. Go on, get out of here now!”

Tristan’s face fell and he was about to send a withering glare his brother’s way when the horse decided on one last effort to get away. It reared up again, knocking its front hooves into one of the supporting pillars a couple of times. Then it kicked one of its hind legs into another pillar with a sharp snap.

Just then, there was a sickening groan in the structure as wood began to snap in several more places all around them.

The sound had startled Tristan which loosened his hold on the rope. This was all the opportunity the horse needed to break free and brush right past Tristan on its way out of the barn. Tristan staggered violently as the sound of breaking boards got even louder.

“Tristan! Look out!”

Tristan didn’t even have time to react to his brother’s shouts before he was shoved abruptly to the side by Siegfried who had rushed toward him.

Almost immediately after hitting the ground, Tristan watched in horror as the barn fell apart with large beams and shattered shingles crumbling while a roar erupted from within. The walls collapsed inward, bulging and then bursting into pieces.

Tristan gasped and ducked his head down, covering it with his arms. He yelled Siegfried’s name, but there was no response as the barn continued to crash down, burying him in a pile of rotten wood and dirty roof tiles.


	3. Chapter 3

James yawned and peeled off his white surgery jacket. Just like Helen had predicted, surgery ended up being a solitary affair with only Helen or Mrs. Hall occasionally dropping in to break the monotony. He had managed to squeeze in a nap before deciding to make use of his time and do some cleaning and sorting. He even had time to give most of the instruments a thorough scrubbing before surgery hours ended.

Once he had finished hanging up his coat and putting his own jacket back on, he looked over the room with a rueful smile. It hadn’t done anything for the practice’s coffers, but this quiet afternoon gave him a chance to get some needed chores done and had been a good antidote to the frustrating day he had just had.

As he opened the door, Helen appeared on the other side to meet him.

“James, Mrs. Hall said that dinner would be ready soon. You haven’t seen Siegfried or Tris yet, have you?”

“Not a sign of them,” James said with a shake of his head. “But then Mrs. Hall did say that they might be late getting back.”

“I suppose so,” Helen sighed. “Which means you’ll probably have to take the night call outs too. And I was so hoping that we could spend the rest of the evening together.”

“It’s the luck of the draw, I’m afraid,” James said, shrugging. “Maybe I can get Tris to trade his night off with me later in the week.”

“He better,” Helen said. “I think it’s dreadful that they left you with surgery hours and nighttime call outs. It better not be because they stopped off at a pub or something like that.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” James said. “I know that’s something Tris might do on his own, but I doubt he would with Siegfried with him. Besides, one day of extra work will be worth it if it means the two of them are finally patching things up. It certainly will make things a lot more peaceful around here.”

Helen let out a long sigh and smiled at him. “Oh, I know you’re right. But at least take time to have your dinner before doing anything else.”

James was just about to agree with her when the phone rang. Both of them let out another sigh and let their heads flop forward. Mrs. Hall answered it, but they knew that this call would ultimately be for James.

A moment later, Mrs. Hall appeared in the doorway, a grim look on her face. “That was Mr. Calvert. Seems he’s got a cow that’s starting to calve, but summat’s wrong.”

James’ face crinkled in frustration. “Oh no, not another calving. Just what I needed today.” He gave his wife a lopsided smile. “Sorry about dinner, darling. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Helen nodded and gave him a kiss before he walked out. Then she watched as he grabbed a few things from surgery and rushed outside.

“There’s times when I don’t know why I bother with the cooking,” Mrs. Hall said. “It’s a waste to let good cooking go bad from waiting. Still, there’s nawt that can be done about it. And they’re the ones who suffer for it anyway.”

Helen turned on her heel and smiled at Mrs. Hall. “That’s true enough. How about we go ahead and have dinner and clean up. That way, we can finish up early.”

“Well…all right then,” Mrs. Hall said. “Mind, we should still have summat ready in case your husband or Mr. Farnon and Mr. Tristan come back unexpected. You know that men are never happy to come home to no food on the table. Even if it’s what they rightly deserve.”

Helen laughed. “I agree. But what can you do?”

Mrs. Hall nodded and headed back to the kitchen with Helen close behind her.

* * *

 Even though the noise had stopped, Tristan was reluctant to move.

Overall, he considered himself lucky. When the barn began to fall apart around him, he’d dropped to the ground and prayed that he wouldn’t be crushed by the debris. A few pieces had struck his arms, legs and back as they fell to the ground, but none of it had hit him very hard. Still, as fortunate as he knew he was, Tristan already felt sore and was certain that he’d have masses of bruises all over by nightfall.

Deep creaking moans coming from the corners of the barn were all that was left from the clamor from earlier and even these had begun to trail off. Only after they had stopped completely did Tristan consider moving with his first action being opening his eyes as he lowered his arms from around his head.

Tristan blinked several times, coughing as swirls of dust flew into his face. He was currently buried under some roofing shingles, but they were light enough to be easily brushed aside. Tristan groaned as he sat up, continuing to push tiles off of him. Once the last of them were gone, he took a long look at his surroundings, his expression quickly becoming grim.

There was no sign of the entrance to the barn anymore. The doors had snapped from their hinges and had crumbled into rough planks. There were still holes in what was left of the walls and roof, but they were not large enough to get much more than an arm through them. The ceiling had dropped down several feet, and Tristan was certain that there wasn’t enough space for him to stand upright now. There was also only a squashed circle of space where the piles of debris weren’t too deep, making a somewhat even surface to get around on. The rest of the space around him was a jumble of broken chunks of wood and twisted farm equipment that had been left behind to rust.

Tristan shoved the rest of the tiles away and hitched up his legs, frowning. He couldn’t see any way of getting out of here that didn’t involve crawling through one of the narrow passages of debris in the wreckage, a risky proposition as there was no way to know for sure how secure they were or if there would even be a space where he could squeeze himself outside at the end of them.

Suddenly, a faint whiny caught his attention. Tristan squinted and peered out one of the gaps in the wall across from him. He could see the horse he’d tried to capture prancing about outside.

“Wretched creature,” he mumbled. “The least you could do is be trapped in here with us. Seeing as it’s your fault and all.”

It was while he listened to the horse whiny again that he realized what had been bothering him ever since he woke up. Other than the periodic creaks from what was left of the barn and clomping of hooves outside, it had been quiet.

And there had not been a single sound from his brother.

“Siegfried?” Tristan called out. “Siegfried, are you all right?”

There was no response, and Tristan felt his inside tighten. He brushed himself off some more and then got up onto his knees so he could get a better look at his surroundings. He spied his bag next to a small pile of wood and crawled over to grab it, grateful that it wasn’t buried in the wreckage. Then he found an old pump about a foot away and made a note of it as he was feeling rather parched.

A second later, he spotted Siegfried’s bag next a larger pile of wood. He scrambled toward it and was about to pick it up when he saw something else only inches away: a hand. A hand that was attached to an arm that was wasn’t moving.

“Siegfried!” Tristan said as he crawled over to it. His brother was mostly buried under shingles and broken boards. Tristan carefully lifted the pieces up and tossed them to the side as quickly as he could. It wasn’t long before he found Siegfried, unconscious and still.

Horrified, Tristan shook Siegfried’s shoulder vigorously, but got no response. Then he pressed trembling fingers up against his brother’s neck. It took him almost a full minute, but eventually he found a pulse, causing Tristan to let out a soft cry of relief.

Then he went back to work, digging Siegfried out of the wreckage. Siegfried did not stir once while he moved the wood and tiles away, but Tristan tried to ignore that fact so he could focus on the task at hand. Right now, all that mattered was getting Siegfried free and finding a way out of this barn so he could get help. The car was quite a ways away from here, but Tristan figured he could worry about that once they were outside and were no longer in danger of being crushed if the barn should collapse even more.

Tristan had managed to get Siegfried’s head, shoulders, and torso uncovered, but as he pushed the last few pieces of wood away, he made another terrible discovery. There was a dark stain blooming on Siegfried’s shirt and jacket. Blood. Blood that was still spreading across the fabric and dripping into a tiny pool on the dirt floor.

Tristan’s breath caught in his throat. “My god, Siegfried.”

He tugged his brother’s coat and shirt away to find a long gash that had been carved into Siegfried’s abdomen. Probably inflicted by a nail or a large, sharp splinter of wood. It wasn’t a very deep wound. The damage appeared to be limited to the skin and muscle underneath and had not punctured any internal organs or major blood vessels. But it was still bleeding badly.

For a moment, all Tristan could do was stare, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. He felt sick as he watched the trickle of blood, Siegfried’s blood, drip into the hay and dirt, staining them dark red.

Suddenly, years of training snapped him to attention. Stop the bleeding. That’s what you needed to do. Stop the bleeding and then worry about treatment.

Tristan gulped and grabbed the bags next to him, fingers fumbling with the catches. They still had leftover materials from their treatment of those two horses: cotton, gauze, and fasteners. Then he remembered the pump and crawled back over to it. It looked like it could still work, so he placed both hands onto the handle and pumped. Ancient joints squeaked and scraped, but eventually, he was able to get a thin stream of water out of the spout.

He scrubbed his hands under the water and then took a section of the gauze and wet it down. Then he went back over to Siegfried and began to wipe the excess blood and dirt away as best he could. Once he was done, he swabbed on a bit of iodine and used the cotton and more of the gauze to create a makeshift bandage.

It wasn’t anywhere near as clean or neat as he would have liked, especially since he had to work around the debris still surrounding Siegfried. Still, it did cover the wound and hopefully would put a stop to the bleeding. Or at least most of it. Blood would probably still continue to seep into the bandage until the wound was properly closed, but, for now, Siegfried wasn’t in danger of bleeding to death before Tristan could get him to a doctor.

That left the problem of finding a way out of this barn. Tristan wasn’t sure how he was going to get Siegfried out if his brother didn’t come around. Then again, he supposed that he could drag Siegfried out if he could find a big enough passage to get through. It wasn’t a solution he liked with Siegfried having suffered such a serious injury, but it was better than none at all.

Tristan went back to the pump to splash some water onto his hands and wipe them off as best he could. Then he went back to work on removing the rest of the rubble off of his elder brother. There didn’t appear to be any other injuries, but Tristan knew that he couldn’t rule out the possibility that his brother was badly bruised, had fractured some bones, or maybe even be bleeding internally.

As he worked, Tristan kept thinking about how he would give just about anything to have Siegfried wake up and talk to him. Even if it was just to yell at him for going into this barn in the first place. Anything was preferable to this terrible silence.

It was when he was down to moving the rest of the debris from Siegfried’s legs that Tristan realized that there was something else wrong. Two large support beams had fallen onto the twisted remains of a plow, pinning Siegfried in place. Tristan heaved for several minutes, but wasn’t able to even budge either of the beams even an inch. From what he could tell, both the beams and the plow were suspended a couple of inches over Siegfried’s legs which was a relief as it probably meant that his elder brother’s legs hadn’t been crushed or broken.

However, it also meant that he wouldn’t be able to move Siegfried from that spot.

Tristan grabbed hold of Siegfried’s shoulder, shaking it. “Siegfried? Come on, Siegfried, wake up. Please.”

His brother remained unresponsive, and Tristan felt his insides twist. There was no way he could get Siegfried out of the wreckage without help. But getting help would mean leaving Siegfried behind, an option Tristan was loathe to go with.

That is, if he could find a way to escape which he hadn’t done so far.

Tristan looked back down at Siegfried’s still form, his throat tightening as he squeezed his elder brother’s shoulder. No, he couldn’t leave Siegfried like this. Injured and unconscious and possibly…possibly….

A shaft of sunlight touched Tristan’s face through one of the holes in the wall. Tristan crawled as close as he could toward it.

“Help!” he yelled. “Anyone? We’re trapped in here! Please help!”

Tristan yelled for several moments before finally giving up. Deep down, he had known it would be futile. Hardly anyone went out to these fells anymore other than to graze their sheep in the springtime. There was the chance that someone would find their car alongside the road and investigate. But there was no way to know when it would be discovered or if whoever did find it would think to check this ruin of a barn.

Would anyone find them before Siegfried….?

Tristan took a shaky breath and crawled back over to his brother’s side. He checked Siegfried’s pulse again and got a little relief when he realized that it wasn’t any weaker. The bandages had stopped almost all of the bleeding, and Siegfried’s condition appeared stable.

Problem was, Tristan wasn’t sure how long that would last.


	4. Chapter 4

Several minutes later, the situation looked even more hopeless to Tristan than it did before.

After checking on Siegfried’s bandages again, he slowly crawled around the remains of the barn. Fortunately, it did not look like it would collapse further any time soon. Several broken beams and support pillars were still propping up what was left of the walls and roof.

Unfortunately, this also meant that the debris that was wedged in between these supports was firmly fastened into place. The only option left was to dig around the immovable piles of the ruins. However, even that wasn’t entirely appealing to Tristan as he wasn’t sure how much he could move the looser clumps of debris around without destabilizing those supports and bringing the roof down onto them.

Tristan eventually sat back on his haunches and heaved a huge sigh. As much as he didn’t really want to start clearing out a passage that could easily end up burying him alive, he knew that he didn’t have much choice. He had just started to weigh his options of where to start digging when the sound of movement caught his attention.

“Tristan? Tristan….where…?”

Tristan scampered over to Siegfried, relief flooding him as he heard his brother call for him and watched his eyes open.

“I’m right here, Siegfried,” he assured him, placing a hand onto Siegfried’s forearm. “Just relax and lie still, all right?”

Siegfried blinked several times and then let his head flop over to the side so he could face Tristan.

“What happened?”

Tristan let out a short laugh. “Don’t you remember? A barn fell on us.”

Siegfried sighed and made a show of slowly opening and closing his eyes, a gesture Tristan knew signaled exasperation.

“That’s fairly obvious, wouldn’t you say, Tristan? What I mean is, how did it happen? I, I seem to be having trouble recalling….”

Siegfried raised a shaky hand to his forehead, causing Tristan to frown. Siegfried sounded weak and disoriented. Not a good sign.

“It was that wretched horse,” Tristan told him. “He must have shattered what was left of one of the main support beams when he kept thrashing about.”

“Oh. Oh yes, that makes sense.” Siegfried rubbed the side of his head. “That horse…did it make it out or is it trapped in here with us?”

Tristan’s face twisted into a bitter smile. That was just like Siegfried: to worry about the horse while the two of them were the ones with all the problems.

“It’s just fine,” he answered. “Probably having a nice stroll out there while we’re stuck in here.”

Siegfried chuckled. “Tristan, really. It’s not the horse’s fault if you don’t know how to handle it properly, now is it?”

Tristan scowled, but didn’t argue. Despite all the anger and worry churning inside him, deep down, he did agree with Siegfried. It was just a dumb animal. An animal that was hurt and that had acted out of fear and pain. He couldn’t really blame it for what happened.

Siegfried rubbed his face again before letting his hand drop down to the ground. He stared blankly into the distance for a moment and then finally turned his attention back toward Tristan.

“What about you? Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Tristan said, trying to smile. “Just a little bruised up is all.”

“Good, good,” Siegfried said. Tristan’s face fell again as he watched his elder brother furrow his brow, apparently struggling to find his words.

“Then why on Earth haven’t you tried to get out of here yet?” Siegfried eventually said. “The rest of this barn could fall down on us at any minute.”

“I don’t think it’s quite that bad yet. Besides, there’s a bit of a problem with that, Siegfried.”

“Problem? What problem?”

Siegfried started to try to sit up, but had only managed to raise his shoulders off the ground before his injuries caused him to groan and flop back down. He blinked owlishly as he studied the wreckage that was trapping his legs.

“Oh…oh I see,” he mumbled. “But you…you said you were fine.”

“Yes, just about I think.”

“Then why aren’t you trying to get out?” Siegfried repeated. “There’s no point in both of us being trapped in here.”

“I can’t do that. Leave you here like this.”

“My dear boy, you….”

Siegfried was cut off by another groan, his eyes clamping shut as he worked to steady his breathing.

Tristan clasped his brother’s forearm a little tighter. “Siegfried….”

“I’m all right!” Siegfried snapped. “Don’t fuss!” He took a couple more ragged breaths and then opened his eyes and sighed. “No. No, I suppose I’m not, am I? Tristan…how bad is it?”

Tristan described the wound he had bandaged along with all the other observations he had made about Siegfried’s current state. Once Tristan was finished, Siegfried remained silent for another couple of minutes before finally speaking again.

“Our bags. Do you have them or were they buried underneath all this mess?”

“No, I’ve got them both,” Tristan answered. “Rather a miracle that I was able to find them really.”

“Water?”

“There’s an old pump. I was able to get it working. The water isn’t the best, but it’s drinkable. Are you thirsty? I could get you some.”

“Yes, that would be….” Siegfried suddenly shook his head emphatically. “No. No, you are going to need it. There should be enough materials left over from when we took care of those two unfortunate horses.”

“Materials? Siegfried, what are you…?”

Suddenly, Tristan felt the blood drain from his face as he finally realized what Siegfried had in mind.

“Siegfried! Siegfried, I…I can’t….”

“It’s the only way,” Siegfried insisted.

“But I’m not a doctor,” Tristan said, his voice cracking. “I’m just a vet. I’m not even that. I’m not qualified, Siegfried.”

“Tristan….” Siegfried paused and took a deep breath. “Tristan, listen to me. From what you’ve told me, that wound doesn’t include anything vital, but it is still bleeding, correct?”

“Yes, but….”

“No! For once, be quiet and listen to me,” Siegfried snapped. “Tristan I, I am feeling…rather off-color…and I’m sure it will get worse unless the bleeding is stopped. Now, I…I know you have a steady hand and are quite nimble with your suturing. I’ve seen it plenty of times. You will just have to put those skills to use here.”

“But Siegfried, that was with animals, not people,” Tristan said, his voice going up an octave. “And, and I couldn’t give you anything. You know, for while I’m doing it. Nothing we have would be safe.”

Siegfried closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “I…am…aware of that…Tristan. But it, it doesn’t change the facts at hand.” He moaned again and then opened his eyes, making sure to meet Tristan’s gaze. “You are going to have to clean and close that wound.”

Tristan felt his insides quake. “Even if I could, Siegfried, I’m sure you’ll get an infection and….”

“And if you don’t, I’ll likely bleed to death before that would even matter,” Siegfried cut in. “At least…at least this way, we’d have some time.”

Tristan bowed his head. He tried to swallow several times, but could only barely manage it around the lump forming in his throat.

“I…I can’t, Siegfried…I….”

A cool and slightly clammy hand patted one of Tristan’s, causing him to look up and see Siegfried staring at him, a weak smile on his face.

“My dear Tristan, I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think you could.” Siegfried gently curled his fingers around Tristan’s. “You must try.”

Tristan felt his heart twist again, but nodded his head.

“All right. I’ll try.”

* * *

“Are you still sure about this, Siegfried?”

Tristan watched as Siegfried slowly opened his eyes again and looked around the barn, apparently gathering his thoughts.

A bucket of water was sitting on the ground next to where Tristan was kneeling. He had washed his hands and the instruments as best he could. He had also pulled Siegfried’s jacket and shirt away from the wound. The bandages he had put on earlier were already saturated with blood, strengthening Siegfried’s argument that the wound needed to be closed as soon as possible.

“Yes. Yes, get on with it,” Siegfried replied, his voice growing raspy.

Tristan nodded and rinsed his hands one more time before walking on his knees even closer to his elder brother. He checked his instruments again and threaded the suture needle he was going to use before sitting it aside in the bag. He started to reach down to remove the bandages covering the wound when he hesitated.

Siegfried cocked his head slightly, a quizzical look on his face. “What is it?”

Tristan began looking around at the piles of wood before finally settling on an old twig he found next to their equipment bags. He picked it up and held it out to Siegfried.

“I thought….well, that maybe you’d rather….you know….”

Siegfried squinted at him for a few seconds until understanding finally came to him.

“Yes. Yes, of course. That would be better.”

He took the stick from Tristan’s hand and placed it between his teeth. Then he raised his arms over his head and firmly grasped a smashed wheel from a plow that had rusted and warped out of shape. He gave one last curt nod to Tristan and closed his eyes.

Tristan gave him a nod of his own and began. He peeled the bloody bandages away and washed the wound and the area around it as best he could. Then he carefully tweezed away a few large splinters that had gotten into the gash and gently swabbed antiseptic onto the wound. Once he had finished and had cleaned away some loose tissue and additional blood, Tristan began to suture the torn flesh together.

Throughout this, Tristan refused to look at Siegfried’s face. Not that it mattered. As soon as he had started cleaning the wound, he heard the groans and cries of pain that were only muffled by Siegfried clamping down on that stick. There were a couple of times when Siegfried shuddered and squirmed slightly, but overall, he had remained still enough for Tristan to work. Remarkable really, given the circumstances.

A chill spread through Tristan, but he ignored it as best he could. He had to concentrate. He simply could not allow himself to think too much about what he was doing. About the suffering he was surely inflicting onto Siegfried. Instead, Tristan let himself drift away until the only thought in his mind was the task at hand. He couldn’t hear Siegfried anymore. Couldn’t see his brother’s agonized reactions to this makeshift surgery.

His mind moved back to his days in veterinary college. To his first surgeries carried out during fieldwork while under the watchful eyes of his professors and his brother. This was just another assignment he needed to complete. That was all.

Soon, it didn’t even feel like he was the one performing the surgery after all. It was as if Tristan was watching someone else carefully suture the wound closed. Whoever it was, Tristan couldn’t help but admire their work. Yes, this was a first-rate job of stitching, something Siegfried would appreciate if he could see it. Surely, this animal, whatever it was, would be just fine.

Once the last suture was in place, Tristan slowly put the needle aside and reached for the bottle of iodine. It wasn’t until it was in his hands that he suddenly blinked and looked at what he was holding, confused. He didn’t remember grabbing this bottle. How did it get into his hand?

Then he looked down at Siegfried and was shocked to see that the job was done.

Tristan’s stomach churned, but he made sure to keep his nausea under control while he rubbed some more antiseptic around the stitches. Then he carefully bandaged the wound again, making it as tight as he would dare. He was sure that the bleeding would stop now, but there was still the risk of infection. Not to mention anything that he might have done wrong while he was poking around in there.

He pulled down Siegfried’s shirt and jacket again, making sure to keep the fabrics loose around the bandages. It was then that he noticed how still and quiet his brother had become.

Tristan felt his heart jump into his throat. He pressed his brother’s neck several times in search of a pulse, gasping for relief once he had found it. Siegfried must have passed out at some point during the surgery, but he was horrified to realize that he had no idea when it could have happened.

The stick was dangling between Siegfried’s lips while his arms hung limply over his head. After another unsteady breath, Tristan took the stick out of his brother’s mouth, noting the deep grooves and cracks that were now in it before tossing it as far as he could. Then he drew Siegfried’s arms back to his sides. A couple drops of blood fell from one of Siegfried’s hands as he did it.

Tristan’s eyebrows scrunched down as he examined Siegfried’s hand. For a second, he wondered what could have caused this, but then he discovered half-moon shaped marks all along the palm and blood on his brother’s fingernails.

Tristan felt his eyes burn as he pulled out a piece of cotton from one of the bags, wet it down, and then brushed the blood away. He finished up with another drop of iodine and wrapped some gauze around Siegfried’s hand.

When he was done, he continued to hold Siegfried’s hand in both of his, his fingers gliding along the sides of the palm.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Siegfried. I….”

Tristan felt his throat close up again and fell silent. Siegfried remained unresponsive, and Tristan figured that it was best to let him rest for now.

He gingerly placed Siegfried’s hand on the ground and scanned the area around them. There were discarded bandages and bits of gauze and cotton that were caked with blood. The instruments he had used were also covered with it. Then he looked down with detached interest at his own red, sticky hands.

Tristan closed his eyes. He really should clean all this up. And wash his hands. It wasn’t good to leave blood all over the place. Tristan decided that he should take care of it right away.

And he would too, as soon as he could stop shaking so much.   


	5. Chapter 5

It was a cold, rainy night by the time James finally got back to Skeldale.

The calving had started out straightforward enough, but then the calf turned and James struggled to find the legs again. Unlike the other cow he had worked with that day, this one’s uterus was much smaller and tighter. Which meant that he did not have much room to move his hand about so he could attach a rope to one of the limbs.

 He was about to give up when his index finger finally brushed across a hoof. Relieved, he fastened a line to the back legs and began pulling.

Fortunately, there were no more complications after that. It only took a few minutes to pull the calf out, and it turned out to be a healthy, good-sized heifer. Unfortunately, the cow’s uterus came out with the calf which meant even more time spent straining to put it back in.

Once he had gotten home, all James wanted to do was spend an hour soaking in a bath with water as hot as he could stand before going to bed. That would mean asking either Siegfried or Tristan to take the rest of the night calls. Considering the day he had had and the fact that he taken on most of the day’s surgery hours and visits, he felt it was a fair exchange.

James flung his jacket onto a hook and sat his bag next to the surgery door before strolling to the living room. He smiled when he found Helen waiting for him on the couch in front of a crackling fire. She jumped up and kissed him.

“Sorry about dinner,” he said, putting an arm around her waist. “Is there any left?”

“Mrs. Hall and I put some aside,” Helen answered. “Let me get you a plate.”

She gave him another peck before leaving the room. Meanwhile, James sank down onto the couch and leaned back, savoring the warmth of the fire. He could hear the patter of the rain on the roof getting louder, and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to go back out into that.

When Helen returned, he got up and sat down at the table with her. The food wasn’t quite piping hot, but James still marveled at the skill Mrs. Hall used to make sure it was at least a decent meal to come home to.

“Is Siegfried and Tris back yet?” he asked in between bites.

Helen leaned forward and placed her arms onto the table. “No, and I’m getting worried. A regular horse job wouldn’t take this long, would it? Especially with Tris there to help him.”

“Well, it depends on the job,” James replied. “I’ve had surgeries that have taken an entire night and even a portion of the next morning. And you know how Siegfried is with horses. He’ll want to be as thorough as possible before leaving.”

Helen nodded and looked down at the stable. James took another couple of bites before reaching over to pat her arms.

“Still, I suppose it is getting rather late, isn’t it?” he said. “Look, how about I finish dinner and then I’ll make a call to Gibbs’ place to see how things are going?”

“All right,” Helen said, smiling. “I know I’m probably being silly about this….”

“No you’re not,” James assured her. “To be honest, I did expect Siegfried to have at least called by now to let us know what is happening. Hopefully, they won’t be out for much longer.”

Helen smiled again and nodded. “Would you like some more? We had put some aside for Siegfried and Tris too, but well, I doubt they’ll want it by the time they get here.”

James was about to say no, but then he glanced down at his plate and discovered that it was half-empty already. He must have been hungrier than he thought.

“Maybe a little bit more,” he said as he quickly polished off what was left on his plate.

Helen took off for the kitchen and was just about to leave the room when the phone rang. She glanced back at James with a grim look on her face, but continued silently toward the kitchen.

Meanwhile, James let out a frustrated sigh and went to answer the phone. Elaborate horse job or not, it was more than a little unfair for Siegfried and Tristan to fob off all the practice’s work onto him. Thus, he was tempted to let Mrs. Hall answer it and say that he was unavailable.

But when the phone rang again, he took a deep breath and answered it.

“Hello? Darrowby three eight five.”

“Hello? Hello? That you Mr. Herriot? This is Mr. Sykes.”

“Yes, this is Herriot, Mr. Sykes. Can I help you?”

“Well…I’d rather speak to Mr. Farnon. It involves him and all.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Farnon isn’t here,” James replied. “Either one of them.”

“Oh, oh well that’s all right then,” Sykes said. “Young Farnon told me his brother might be late getting out here when I talked to him yesterday. I had thought Mr. Farnon was still messing with that horse out at Gibbs’ place. Old Denham had seen his car out there earlier today and one of the boys out there said that that was what Mr. Farnon was doing. But Denham was just by here again and said he’d seen Mr. Farnon’s car leave a while ago. So, I thought maybe he’d forgotten to come out here and had gone home. But if you say he’s still out, then he’s probably on his way. “

“Yes, he probably is,” James agreed. “He should be there any time now.”

“I reckon so. Well, I’ll not bother you any more. Good night, Mr. Herriot.”

“Good night, Mr. Sykes.”

James hung up the phone and looked up to see Helen walking out of the kitchen, another plate of food in her hands.

“Do you have to go out again?” she asked.

James grinned at her. “Nope. That was Mr. Sykes wondering where Siegfried was.”

“James, do you think we should….?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I know where Siegfried and Tris are now,” James said. “Old Charlie Denham saw them at Gibbs’ place until just a little while ago and by now, Siegfried is heading off to his appointment with Sykes. See, I told you it was just a complicated job that was keeping them out so late. That’s probably part of the reason why he took Tristan with him. Tris might not be qualified, but he is a very handy assistant.”

“Well, that’s good. At least we know what’s happened to them then,” Helen said. “I was getting worried. But James, they still left you with the night calls.”

“I know,” James said with a huff of resignation. “Still, it can’t be helped. And it’s not as if they are taking it easy.”

“Oh I know. But I still say they should make it up to you. And soon.”

“Don’t worry, I plan on collecting on my acts of charity today,” James chuckled. “Maybe we can take a day off and head to Brawton later this week. We haven’t been there in a while.”

“That sounds lovely,” Helen said, a smile of her own finally appearing. “For now, let’s just hope that you don’t get called out again.”

“I’ll settle for the rest of dinner and time for a hot bath at this point,” James said.

Helen handed him the plate and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You finish that up and I’ll draw you one.”

“Thank you, darling,” James said as she walked away. He carried his plate back to the table and dug in right away, eager to finish and have a relaxing soak.

The truth was, he was more than a little put out by Siegfried leaving him to handle everything alone like this. However, he also knew that Siegfried’s typical absentmindedness only got worse when he was confronted with a particularly difficult or demanding job. And Tris was not much better about keeping people informed about his movements, especially when he was concerned about Siegfried going on at him for something.

James paused and sat his fork down onto his plate. It occurred to him just then that, if the visit to Gibbs’ place had turned into a disaster, it might have repercussions as far as what kind of mood Siegfried would be in by the end of it. Because while a complicated and yet successful job might further improve relations between the Farnons, a catastrophic one could mean a return to the stormy relationship they had had not too long ago.

He shook his head and went back to polishing off what was on his plate. While he dreaded thinking about what could happen, James chose to believe that any outcome, positive or negative, would only be temporary anyway. For all his fiery disposition, Siegfried tended to let go of grievances fairly quickly. Plus, he was very fond of Tristan even if he often didn’t show it. And Tris was equally attached to his brother despite the frustration Tristan often displayed in response to his elder brother’s cantankerous and capricious nature.

No matter what happened tonight, James was confident now that things would get back to normal eventually. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

As soon as he finished his dinner, James yawned, stretching his arms over his head. For now, he was going to focus on how good that bath was going to feel and not let the specter of another night call disturb his contentment.

* * *

 

Back at the wreck of the barn, the weather outside had become much worse.

Lightening flickered outside, creating intense flashes of white within the dark gloom and loud booms of thunder. Thick sheets of rain pelted what was left of the roof. The temperature had dropped quickly to only a few degrees above freezing which contributed to the fierceness of the storm.

Inside the barn, Tristan shivered. He had managed to clean up the area around himself and Siegfried before it had gotten too dark and had found a dirty, cracked lantern in the ruins. He’d only gotten scant amounts of light out of it once he had lit it, but it was enough for his current task: gathering up a pile of straw from wherever he could find clumps of it in the barn.

By now, he was certain that they wouldn’t be able to get out of the barn tonight. So Tristan figured that he should do what he could to make the two of them more comfortable. Fortunately, the rain that drizzled into the barn didn’t land anywhere near the area he was working in or close to Siegfried’s still form. However, it did make the barn much more cold and damp. Thus, he hoped that the old, musty hay he was gathering would provide some protection from the elements.

Tristan lifted another small pile into his arms and walked it over on his knees to where he had already made a substantial mound. Siegfried had only woken up a couple of times over these last three hours. Neither of those times had his brother been coherent or conscious for very long. Still, Tristan had been marginally relieved by those fleeting moments of consciousness. At least Siegfried hadn’t been killed by that brutal, amateur surgery. Not that there wasn’t still a chance that the shock Siegfried had endured could finish him off anyway.

Tristan roughly shoved the straw he had gathered into a tighter pile. He was still worried about his elder brother, but right now, that was overshadowed by anger. For a long while, he silently raged at that horse for knocking the building down and that gave him something to distract him from his anxiety.

Eventually though, Tristan realized that the true target of his anger was himself. He should have never run into this barn. Siegfried told him not to and he hadn’t listened. Even worse, it was Siegfried who had paid the price for his not listening and had ended up injured and forced to endure a makeshift surgery.

Granted, it was Siegfried who had insisted on the surgery, and Tristan had agreed with his reasons. However, knowing that what he did was necessary did not change the memories he had of cleaning and suturing his brother’s wounds without an anesthetic. The strangled sounds Siegfried had made were still echoing in the back of his mind.

Tristan slouched down onto his knees, his hands gripped into tight balls on his thighs. A far less rational part of him was convinced that he would have done a better job treating Siegfried if he was a qualified vet. As it was, he was just a student who had failed at his studies numerous times. How could Siegfried trust him with a task like that?

He sagged down even more. The anger had given him the energy he needed to clean up after the surgery and get things ready to spend the night in this barn. However, now that he was just about finished with those tasks, he felt worn down. Every fiber of his muscles cried for rest. His nerves were stretched tight and thin. At that moment, he could almost be grateful that Siegfried was unconscious because he was certain that a single belligerent word from his elder brother would snap the tension building inside him, unleashing emotions he just managed to keep under control.

Tristan raised his head and went back to gathering up the few remaining bits of dry straw. Once he was sure that there was no more to be found, he carefully slipped some of it underneath Siegfried’s prone body, cushioning him from the cold, hard dirt floor. Then he checked his brother’s vitals again. The pulse was a bit erratic, but still strong. Siegfried’s breaths were shallower than normal, but not worryingly so yet.

What did concern Tristan was how cold Siegfried was becoming. His brother had lost a lot of blood and was probably still in shock because of it. Being stuck out in this frigid, dank weather wasn’t going to help matters. Nor would the fact that Siegfried’s clothes were still damp from falling into that sodden muck earlier.

Tristan sighed. Even in his coat, he was already starting to get chilly and didn’t relish the thought making things worse for himself. However, he was also aware that Siegfried needed the extra warmth far more than he did.

He let out a whine as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it onto Siegfried, making sure to tuck it in around his brother’s shoulders. Tristan vigorously rubbed and slapped his upper arms to keep his circulation up, but his jaw was already starting to tremble from the chill. It wasn’t long before he gave up, deciding that there would be no way around getting frozen tonight anyway.

Instead, Tristan pushed some of the straw into a circle around Siegfried and then blew out the lantern. He bunched up another pile of hay to burrow into and crawled in. He only stayed there for a few seconds, however, before changing his mind and heaving the straw over closer to Siegfried.

As he laid back down and curled up onto his side, Tristan scooted over as close as he could to Siegfried. Then, he pulled an edge of his jacket over so they could share the warmth. It wasn’t all that comfortable, but it was better than huddling alone under that straw.

Suddenly, Siegfried coughed, his eyes flickering open. “Who? Who’s there?” His head flopped to the side. “Oh…it’s you, Tristan.”

Tristan swallowed hard. “Yes Siegfried.”

“Tristan why are you…oh, I see,” he croaked. “Another nightmare, old chap? It’s all right, little brother, I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

“Thank you,” Tristan mumbled.

Siegfried made a couple more drowsy sounds and then closed his eyes, apparently satisfied with his explanation for what Tristan was doing. He nodded off again immediately afterward.

Meanwhile, Tristan sniffed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. When he was a child, he sometimes suffered from bad dreams and night terrors that were intense enough to jar him awake crying and sometimes even screaming. The anxiety he felt afterwards would keep him awake for hours.

It was an affliction that he had struggled with on and off since he was a toddler and that had gotten worse in the last couple of years before he moved in with Siegfried. When he was living with Mother in the same house as his cousin Nellie and her husband, Jack, Jack had severely berated him for waking him and Nellie up with his nightmares and would often force him to spend the next several nights in the attic so he and his wife would not be disturbed.

Siegfried, however, had responded to these night terrors by inviting Tristan to come sleep in his room whenever he wished. His thought being that these sleep disturbances would eventually fade once Tristan became used to the idea that he would always be secure while slumbering.

Granted, Tristan usually couldn’t go right to sleep in his brother’s room due to Siegfried’s snoring. Still, it never took more than a few minutes to drift into unconsciousness and have a peaceful night, comforted by the knowledge that Siegfried was close by if he needed him. It certainly was far better than huddling under scratchy, threadbare blankets while trying to sleep on an old cot in a drafty attic with Jack’s latest harsh words still ringing in his ears.

Tristan opened his eyes back up and watched Siegfried doze. Memories like that, little gestures of fraternal affection Siegfried had shown him over the years, weren’t usually at the forefront of his mind when dealing with his elder brother. However, Tristan was certain that those memories were still influencing him. Still gently prodding him to overlook Siegfried’s latest fit of ill temper and to exercise some patience when putting up with his brother’s eccentricities.

Tristan reached over and put a hand on Siegfried’s arm, grasping at his sleeve. As nervous as he was about what might happen while he was asleep, he knew he needed to try to get some rest. If not for himself than for Siegfried so he could be alert enough to take care of his brother and so he’d have the energy to continue to find a way to escape and get help.

“Good night, Siegfried,” he whispered.

His eyelids heavy with exhaustion, he finally stopped resisting the urge to close them.


	6. Chapter 6

Upon opening his eyes, Siegfried Farnon’s first thought was how astonished he was to see anything, let alone the first rays of a sunrise.

His memories of the previous day were jumbled and it took him several moments to collect his thoughts and work out why he had been so surprised to wake up. Then it finally came to him: stray horse, barn collapse, and Tristan having to treat his wounds.

Siegfried tried to swallow, his parched mouth and throat making that difficult. The last thing he remembered from yesterday was his little brother working to close the gash in his side. That part was easy to recall as Siegfried doubted he would ever forget the pain he experienced while it was happening or the dread he felt that this surgery would finish him off. The fact that he had survived and had awakened with at least some of his faculties intact seemed nothing short of a miracle.

He also remembered the waxen, vacant look on Tristan’s face while he worked and the brief terror he had that Tristan was going into shock and wouldn’t be able to finish. But somehow, in his haze of agony, Siegfried was able to figure out that Tristan had not become paralyzed with fear, but was actually working coldly and clinically to save his life. Looking back on it now, Siegfried figured that that thought made it easier for him to surrender to merciful unconsciousness.

Still, as grateful as he was to pass out in the middle of it, Siegfried regretted that Tristan had been forced to remain aware throughout it all. He knew that he’d have a hard time operating on one of his own dogs due to the attachment he felt toward them and would have to take them to Granville Bennett to treat them. He could only imagine how terrible it would be if he had had to do what Tristan did and operate on his own brother. An operation neither of them were actually qualified to do.

Siegfried shuddered. Even though he knew he’d never forget what happened to him, he still held onto a faint hope that Tristan would find a way to block those terrible moments from his mind. That was a memory he did not want his little brother to re-live. Ever.

He tried to move and immediately regretted it as fresh pain raced through his body. Not that he could move all that much anyway. The dammed beams that had fallen over him were still holding him fast.

Siegfried clenched his jaw tightly, only allowing a couple of quiet moans escape as he worked to regain his composure. Eventually, what registered about as much as the pain was how warm he was starting to feel. Warm and more than a little nauseous.

He put a hand to his forehead. Yes, he was definitely feverish. At least, Siegfried was fairly certain that he was. It was getting difficult to keep his thoughts orderly which frustrated him. He needed to keep his wits about him if they were to have any chance of either of them getting out of this barn.

It was then that Siegfried realized that he hadn’t heard a sound from Tristan for a while.

“Tristan?” he rasped. He coughed and managed a thick swallow at last. “Tristan?”

Siegfried frowned and then blinked hard. He couldn’t fathom how he hadn’t noticed until just now, but suddenly, he was aware of someone huddled up against him. He craned his neck around to find Tristan curled up beside him, fast asleep.

Despite his discomfort, Siegfried managed a weak smile. He thought back to when Tristan was a boy and those times when his little brother would sleep beside him as a way to cope with his nightmares. Tristan never talked about it, but Siegfried hadn’t missed the gratitude in his baby brother’s eyes every time he had made room for him with no questions asked or recriminations given for waking him up. The nightmares went away for good after a few months, but Siegfried found himself checking up on Tristan at night occasionally from that point onward.

Watching his brother slumber next to him soon brought back other memories from Tristan’s childhood, and for a couple minutes, Siegfried found himself lost in a mix of fond remembrances from years ago. He was brought back to the present, however, by the haggard look on Tristan’s face even while he slept.

Another wave of pain was also a sufficient reminder of the dire situation they were currently in. And of the urgent need to act as quickly as possible now that it was light again.

“Tristan,” he repeated, nudging his brother’s arm. “Come on, Tristan, wake up.”

“Come on, Siegfried,” Tristan slurred, still mostly asleep. “Just let me rest in peace.”

“I fear that is what we’ll both be doing if you don’t get moving. So stop arsing about and wake up, will you?”

Siegfried shook Tristan’s arm even harder, the movement making him hiss with pain. This time though, it got the desired effect, and Tristan’s eyes fluttered open.

“What..? Siegfried!” Tristan snapped up into a sitting position. “Are you all right?”

“As well as could be expected, I should think,” Siegfried replied, his words punctuated by another groan. “Is, is there any water left?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, um, hang on a minute.”

Tristan grabbed Siegfried’s bag and rummaged around in it before pulling out a mostly empty pill bottle. He opened it up and shook out the pills, making sure to brush them and as much residue as possible back into the bag. Siegfried almost lectured him about the likely waste involved here, but at the last moment, it occurred to him that this was hardly the situation to be worrying about the misuse of veterinary materials.

Tristan crawled away, and Siegfried heard the creak of the pump and the sound of splashing. A few seconds later, his little brother returned and held up the pill bottle full of water. Siegfried had tried to take it from him, not wanting his baby brother to fuss over him. However, his hands shook too much to hold it steady on his own. Then there was also the awkward position he was trapped in to consider.

In the end, Tristan had had to both guide Siegfried’s hands and prop his elder brother’s head and shoulders up a little so Siegfried could get in a few healthy swallows. Siegfried hated how helpless all this made him feel, but he forced himself to be grateful for Tristan’s assistance.

After drinking down a refill of the bottle, Siegfried collapsed back onto the pile of straw that Tristan had placed under him. At that moment, all he wanted to do was sleep, and his eyes slipped shut of their own accord. He would have dozed off right then if he hadn’t felt a hand grab at his wrist, apparently to check for a pulse.

Siegfried opened his eyes back up to find Tristan frowning as he searched for a heartbeat.

“Use the stethoscope,” Siegfried said. “You’ll get a better idea of what is going on.”

Tristan shook himself. “Oh. Right.” He fished around in Siegfried’s bag until he found it and put it on. Then Tristan pulled down the jacket covering Siegfried and opened his shirt a little. The frown on his little brother’s face did not go away as he pushed the small disc around his chest which Siegfried knew was not a good sign.

“How bad is it?”

Tristan blinked slowly and put the stethoscope away before answering.

“I…Siegfried, I’m pretty sure you’re getting fluid in your lungs. And…and your heart rate, it’s going up.”

“Infection then,” Siegfried sighed, closing his eyes again. “Well, we knew that it would probably happen. Given what we had to work with.”

“I, I’m sorry, Siegfried…I….”

“Tristan, Tristan, it wasn’t your fault,” Siegfried said, patting Tristan’s hand. “There was no avoiding this.” He opened his eyes back up and frowned at the sight of his little brother’s worried face.

“What’s important right now is getting you out of here,” he added.

“Me?! What about you? Siegfried, I can’t just….”

“You must and you will!” Siegfried snapped.

Another rush of pain overtook him, and this time, Siegfried wasn’t able to hold back the agonized groan that escaped his lips. It took him several moments to regain control and clear his head of the warm, dizzying throb that had filled it.

When he finally did come back to his senses, it was to Tristan holding his hand and staring at him with anxious eyes.

At that point, Siegfried knew he’d have to take a different approach. The truth was, he could sympathize with how Tristan must be feeling as Siegfried knew how worried and irrational he would probably be if their situations were reversed, and he was the one who had to face the prospect of leaving his little brother behind in such a precarious condition. Not that he would actually go through with it, but that wasn’t the point right now so there was no need to tell Tristan that.

“Tristan, listen to me,” he said, working hard to keep his voice steady. “This barn isn’t going to stay like this forever. So the sooner one of us gets out and goes for help, the sooner the other person can be rescued. Even if I weren’t trapped by these blasted beams, I’m in no shape to make it back to the car. Don’t you see, Tristan? It has to be you.”

Siegfried curled his fingers around Tristan’s hand. “Besides, with this infection settling in…I won’t…I won’t be able to hold out for too long. You see that, don’t you…Tristan?”

He could hear his little brother swallow hard, and at first, Siegfried thought that Tristan’s silence was the beginning of another refusal. Then, almost a minute later, Tristan finally nodded, hanging his head down afterwards.

“Yes, yes you’re right,” he mumbled. “But Siegfried….”

“No,” Siegfried interrupted, squeezing his brother’s hand. “Don’t think about anything else right now. Concentrate on getting out of here, and then we’ll concern ourselves with other things, little brother.”

Tristan nodded again as he let Siegfried’s hand go. Then he tucked his jacket around Siegfried’s shoulders again before crawling over to the edges of the piles of debris around them.

“You should put that back on,” Siegfried told him. “You won’t do either of us any good if you catch your death of cold.”

“I’m fine,” Tristan said, his back toward him.

Siegfried immediately frowned when he saw Tristan shivering while he began to dig through the mound of rotted roofing tiles in front of him. He loathed it when Tristan lied to him, but decided he would have to let that pass for now. The only important thing at the moment was Tristan finding a way out of this wreck. At least then, he could take comfort in knowing that his little brother would survive this ordeal intact.

As for himself….

Siegfried’s frown softened. He had never been all that sure about his own mortality and wondered how his feelings might change as his condition worsened. No matter what though, Siegfried was completely certain that it would be far worse if he had to watch Tristan perish alongside him. As close as they were, that was one journey he did not want them to take together.

“This is hopeless, Siegfried,” Tristan called back to him. “Every time I move a pile out of the way, more of it falls into the place I just cleared.”

“Then you’ll just have to keep trying,” Siegfried said with an exasperated sigh. “And for goodness sake, be more careful or you’ll bring what’s left of the ruins onto us.”

Tristan grumbled, but Siegfried couldn’t make out what his little brother was saying. Just as well. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to Tristan’s whining anyway.

Siegfried coughed, his mouth dry again already. He thought about asking for more water, but decided against it. He didn’t want to distract Tristan when his little brother was finally hard at work to escape.

Still, Siegfried couldn’t deny that he was thirsty. So thirsty. And warm. Why did Tristan insist on leaving his coat on him anyway? Tristan was the one who kept shivering, although his baby brother was doing a little less of that now that he was busy moving heaps of wreckage around. Meanwhile, Siegfried felt plenty warm. It was ridiculous, but so typical of Tristan. His brother never did listen to him.

Suddenly, he felt very drowsy and could no longer keep his eyelids open. Siegfried figured he might as well rest while Tristan was working. Just a short rest so he could monitor his little brother’s progress later. Tristan often started strong on a job, but then got bored and slacked off. Yes, he’d need to be awake later to prod his little brother to keep at it.

The last thing Siegfried heard was Tristan muttering something about a “bloody, wretched board” before falling asleep.

* * *

 Back near the road, Andrew Birley discovered a curious sight: a car that was abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

Birley cocked his eyebrows up and got down from his buggy to get a closer look at the vehicle. It didn’t appear to be damaged in any way. The tires were all sound. Lifting the bonnet revealed no troubles although he was far from an expert in that area. So why leave it behind? And for that matter, where were the folks who had left the car in the first place? This wasn’t a commonly used road by any means, so it seemed unlikely that the occupants of the car would have been able to get someone to give them a ride elsewhere.

Birley’s confusion grew when he finally realized that he recognized this car. Yes, it was Mr. Farnon’s car. He’d seen it on the roads leading to and from Darrowby often enough. But what would Mr. Farnon be doing all the way out here? There were no farms close by.

A distant whinny caught his attention. Birley looked up and squinted as a horse came trotting toward him.

“Why I say, that’s Charlie Kemp’s horse,” he muttered to himself. “He’s been missing that horse ever since it’d run off. He’d be right happy to get it back.”

Birley darted over and managed to take hold of the lead rope before the horse could run off again. He patted its neck a few times and then walked it back toward his buggy. As he tied the rope onto the back, he noted the bandage on one of the horse’s legs.

“Mr. Farnon must have done that. Maybe that’s why his car was out here. He was treating this horse and then realized he was running out of gas or something. That must be it. And he must have had his brother or Mr. Herriot pick him up so he could let old Charlie know. Well, maybe I could save them an extra trip.”

Once the rope was secure, Birley hopped back onto his buggy and took off. It wouldn’t be much out of his way to drop by Kemp’s place. And he owed Charlie so many favors, it was about time he started paying some of them back.

“Come on, Marigold,” he said with a flick of the reins. “Best we get going before too much of the day gets away from us.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Two hours later, a sliver of hope finally emerged.

Tristan had tried to find a possible exit in multiple places to no avail before finally discovering a spot that had just the right combination of support beams keeping the wreckage steady and looser debris that could be cleared aside to make a path outward.

Once he had found it, he scrabbled at it for over an hour, carefully digging through pieces of wood and piles of molding roofing tiles. His hands were becoming scratched up, his skin raw, but he persisted. Every once in a while, he tested the soundness of the tunnel he was making by cautiously pressing on each side of it. So far, it had held firm and looked like it would continue to do so.

Unfortunately, Tristan’s progress had been slowed down by the need to tend to Siegfried from time to time. Siegfried’s fever had risen, and he alternated between chills and complaints of sweltering heat. His nausea increased as well and had led to a couple bouts of vomiting even though he soon had nothing left to expel.

Tristan did what he could to keep Siegfried comfortable while also making sure to periodically check on Siegfried’s wound and his vitals. The flesh around the gash had become inflamed, and Siegfried’s breathing was slowly becoming congested. Both of them knew how serious these signs were even if neither of them said a word about it aloud.

Siegfried loathed having to rely on Tristan to take care of his every need and had groused about it more than once. However, Siegfried was also aware that he had little choice in the matter and that Tristan was doing the best he could. Thus, he tried to keep his complaints to a minimum while somewhat astonished at how stoic Tristan was throughout this. Something that worried and irritated Siegfried in equal measure.

After yet another short nap, Siegfried finally woke up feeling far more lucid than he had in hours.

“Any luck?” he asked. Tristan turned toward him. His face and hands were smeared with grime.

“I told you ‘yes’ a few minutes ago,” he sighed. “I think I’m almost to the wall. But I’m still not sure about this, Siegfried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…say I do get to the wall, what then? It’s not like I have an axe or a saw in my back pocket, you know. How am I supposed to get through it?”

“My dear boy, I’m sure you can find something around here that you can use to break open a hole. These walls aren’t exactly sound. You’ll just need to put some muscle into it.”

“But what if that brings the whole thing down?” Tristan replied, a whine making it into his tone. “You said yourself that this wreck could fall apart at any minute.”

“Tristan….” Siegfried rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “It won’t matter at that point because you’ll be able to crawl through to the outside. You’ll just have to hurry is all.”

“Yes, fine, but you’ll still be in here. What if…?”

“Tristan.” Siegfried paused to cough. “I told you to worry about getting out of here for now. Then we’ll think about the rest of it.”

Tristan looked like he was going to protest again, but was stopped by Siegfried coughing several more times. That cough was getting worse far too quickly. He needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, his little brother went over to the pump and got himself a drink, wincing at the aftertaste of grit. Then he refilled the pill bottle and crawled over to Siegfried to offer him some of it.

Siegfried managed to take a couple of swallows before his stomach began to churn again. Wanting to avoid another round of sickness, he refused the rest of it.

At first, it looked like Tristan was going to toss the rest of it away, but then he sat the bottle down and reached under his sweater to tear a piece of his shirt off. He poured the rest of the water onto the scrap of fabric and dabbed it against Siegfried’s forehead.

Siegfried closed his eyes. The cool cloth did feel good against his flushed, prickly skin. He turned his face toward the touch and for a moment, he forgot that he was supposed to be prodding Tristan to get back to work.

“Siegfried?”

“Mmm, what is it?”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Tristan, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not your fault that I’m….”

“No, no it’s not that.” Siegfried heard his little brother take a deep breath. “I’m sorry about failing my exams again. Honest, Siegfried, I did try. I thought for sure that I was going to get it this time. But then the day came, and well…I guess what I did wasn’t enough after all. And I know you tried to make sure I was ready and have tried so hard to help me get a handle on my studies. I, I did appreciate it, Siegfried. I just…anyway, I’m sorry that it turned out that way again.”

Siegfried opened his eyes. Tristan was still blotting his forehead with the scrap of wet cloth, but his little brother’s gaze was fixed on some undefined spot on the floor next to him.

There had been many times when Siegfried had wondered if Tristan actually cared about his studies or becoming qualified. It was a completely understandable question, in Siegfried’s opinion. Especially given Tristan’s usual feckless behavior and lazy habits. Consequently, he often thought that the frustration he had seen in his younger brother was mainly due to the ‘corrective measures’ Siegfried had employed to encourage Tristan back onto the path of cleaner, more productive living.

Deep down, though, Siegfried also suspected that it was demoralizing for Tristan to keep failing over and over. It was something Tristan was unaccustomed to as his little brother had done remarkably well in school growing up. Granted, some of that was due to plenty of tutoring coupled with firm kicks to the backside when needed. Both of which were courtesy of his ever-watchful older brother.

Still, Tristan was far from unintelligent and had always been able to pick up anything he put his mind to. While it was true that his little brother could be lazy, he still had the Farnon pride. A pride that was sure to be taking a thorough beating when his efforts, such as they were in Siegfried’s eyes, came to nothing repeatedly.

“Tristan…is this what you still want? To become a vet?”

Tristan’s cheeks turned red as he finally looked up at him. “Siegfried, I….”

“Just…answer the question. Is this what you want?”

A pout appeared on Tristan’s face as he answered without hesitation. “Yes, of course it is.”

“All right then,” Siegfried nodded. “Then we shall keep trying.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Of course,” Siegfried replied. “Who else is going to hammer all sorts of practical experience into you? Or help with your revision? Or just make sure you don’t become a hopelessly idle shirker? Mind you, it’s your future, so I expect you to put in most of the work. But you won’t be going at it alone. And I’m sure James could provide you with additional assistance if you need it. You could learn plenty from watching him as well.”

Siegfried grabbed Tristan’s arm and squeezed it. “Don’t forget though, that I am your brother and that, if you remember correctly, I made a promise to help you get through veterinary college. And I plan to see it through. So we’ll keep trying, little brother. Until you become qualified, we’ll keep at it, no matter what.”

Tristan gulped and turned his face away again which made Siegfried frown in response. Had he said the wrong thing? Perhaps Tristan felt slighted by the idea that he would need so much help to become qualified.

“Siegfried….” Tristan still did not look at him, and his voice was barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

The words seemed sincere, but Siegfried could not understand why his little brother sounded so sad. He squeezed Tristan’s arm again, hoping it would shake him out of this unexpected gloom.

“I, I should be getting back to work,” Tristan mumbled. He sat the cloth across one of the bags and crawled back over to the makeshift tunnel he had carved out of the wreckage.

Siegfried watched Tristan dig until he could no longer keep his eyes open, although the pain was not allowing him to completely drop off to sleep.

He wondered what James and Helen were doing at that moment. Surely, they would have noticed that he and Tristan were missing last night. Siegfried was fairly certain that he had told Mrs. Hall where they were going. Mostly certain. His memory wasn’t always the best, and right now, it was even worse than usual.

Still, Siegfried tried to make a habit out of telling someone whenever he knew he’d be gone for an extended period of time. So it was impossible to believe that nobody would be concerned over their absence. A search would have started by now.

Problem was, they were stuck in a rather isolated area outside Darrowby. There were no farms and no houses. Just a lonely road that people sometimes used to get to Brawton. And this barn, what was left of it, was almost a mile off that road. Anyone who found the car would have to search a wide area in order to find it. That and they’d have to have the presence of mind to come close enough to investigate these ruins rather than simply pass them by thinking that no one would dare go into such a dilapidated structure.

Siegfried sighed. Their best chance by far was for Tristan to get out of this barn and go for help. It was why Siegfried wished his little brother would stop wasting time on him and stay focused on the task at hand. And be quicker about it.

* * *

An hour later, Tristan crawled out from his tunnel and woke Siegfried up by placing a pair of fingers to his elder brother’s neck to check his pulse.

“I’m sure it’s no different from the last time you checked it,” Siegfried grumbled. “Get back to working on that tunnel.”

“It’s all finished, Siegfried,” Tristan said, frowning. “I just need to punch a hole in the wall, and I’m out.”

“Well? Get on with it then.”

“Siegfried, I don’t like this. That wall…well, there was this awful groaning noise when I started to push against it a few minutes ago.”

“My dear boy, what did you expect? This miserable old wreck has been making noises like that for hours. It would do that even if you were just sitting around here doing nothing, a state you’re quite familiar with.”

“Still though, I don’t like the sound of it. Or leaving you alone. What if you need me for something?”

“Tristan, as diligent as you’ve been in my care, there’s only so much you can do for me. What I need is for you to get help as soon as possible.”

Siegfried paused, noting the doubt still in Tristan’s eyes. He patted his little brother’s hand.

“I’m familiar enough with your reckless, devil-may-care way of driving to know that it won’t take much time at all for you to reach Darrowby. I’ll be fine for the short interval you’ll be gone. Now, buzz off, little brother.”

Tristan continued to hesitate until finally nodding and giving Siegfried’s hand one last squeeze before crawling back to the tunnel, picking up a broken spade he had found to use on the wall.

A minute later, Siegfried could hear banging as Tristan hacked at the wall.

“Come on, Tristan,” he shouted. “Put your back into it.”

“I’m trying, Siegfried. It’s not…wait….”

The banging sound grew louder, and Siegfried chose to ignore the answering creaks he heard from the walls around him.

“Siegfried…I think…yes, it’s….”

Siegfried was distracted from his younger brother’s triumphant shouts by a loud snapping sound above him.

“Siegfried? What…?”

“Shut up, Tristan and get out of here!” Siegfried yelled. “Hurry, man!”

The barn groaned even louder, the cracking and snapping sounds coming from every direction.

Instinctively, Siegfried tried squirming away, but was still pinned in place by the beams over his legs. He was trapped, unable to dodge any of the debris that was sure to fall onto him. Siegfried closed his eyes and placed his arms over his head, bracing himself.

Then, Siegfried let out a soft groan of surprise when something did fall against him. Something warm and soft. He opened his eyes and moved his arms apart to see Tristan hunched over him. His little brother’s eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw rigid, as he stayed in place and let debris from the ceiling strike him instead.

“Tristan, you idiot! Get back in that tunnel before….”

A thunderous crash resounded, drowning out the rest of Siegfried’s words. The walls folded downward, bringing the ceiling closer to them and smashing the windows shut. Most of the light disappeared as the barn continued to collapse.

One of the rafters splintered apart and a stray board fell off. An end of it struck Tristan in the head. Tristan moaned and fell forward, boneless, and rolled to the side as he lost consciousness. Siegfried tried to grab his little brother and pull him back closer to him, but Tristan was just out of his reach.

Long, terrifying moments later, the cataclysm finally stopped and the barn grew quiet again. It was only barely standing now. The space they were in had shrunk by half in all directions. Siegfried was grateful that the room still had not crashed down completely, but that was only a small comfort.

One that vanished when he looked over at Tristan’s still body lying next to him. His little brother was lying on his stomach, blood tricking down the side of his face.

“Tristan? Tristan! Come on, Tristan! Wake up!”

Siegfried yelled at him more than once, but it was no use. His little brother did not stir at all. Siegfried stared at him for several seconds, finally letting out a choked sigh of relief when he was able to see that Tristan was still breathing.

He turned frantic eyes to the shattered walls around him. Tristan should have been outside. Should have escaped and been safe. Now, his younger brother’s predicament was even worse than it was a few minutes ago. The nightmares that had appeared in vague, disjointed pieces whenever he’d fallen asleep had come to life.

And it was his fault. If he hadn’t pushed Tristan to move too quickly before he knew it was safe…if Tristan hadn’t felt the obligation to stay behind and…and….

Siegfried craned his neck and stretched his hand out even more.

“Tristan, please…please wake up,” he begged. “You, you have to get out of here. Please….”

Tristan remained unresponsive, and Siegfried knew that, if he hadn’t already been gravely injured and trapped under a pile of debris, his dearest wish would be that he could trade places with his little brother.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a quiet, tense atmosphere at breakfast that morning at Skeldale House.

After a long night spent keeping an ear out for either the phone or the Farnon brothers’ return,  James and Helen ended up letting themselves sleep in a little longer than usual. When they finally came down to breakfast, they had anticipated finding Siegfried and Tristan already eating.

Instead, they found no sign of either of them and all the worries that had started to creep in last night came back with a vengeance.

“James, if they had had a late call that kept them out all night, they would have called,” Helen said. “Siegfried isn’t that absent minded.”

“No, you’re right,” James replied. “Something must have happened.”

“James….” Helen breathed. She reached over to clutch one of his hands. “You, you don’t think they could have….”

“No, I’m sure it’s nothing like that, darling,” James said, putting his other hand over hers. “More than likely, their car just broke down and they were stranded on the moors all night. I told Siegfried that engine needed work, but you know how he is. It’s not really a problem in his eyes as long as he can still get it moving.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Helen said. “Oh, I do wish he’d be more careful with the cars. It could have just as easily been you stuck out on the moors all night. Or something worse.”

“Well, after a night spent stuck in a car with Tristan, I’m sure Siegfried will think twice about letting the cars go to ruin,” James laughed. “And once he’s done getting his car fixed, I’ll make sure he has mine seen to. The farmers are starting to complain that I’m poisoning their stock with the clouds of smoke I’m always leaving behind.”

Helen finally laughed and squeezed his hand. The tension broken, they managed to have a light meal, both of them eating quickly so they could make up for the late start to their day.

“I’m afraid Mrs. Hall won’t be pleased to have so much of her lovely breakfast left behind,” Helen added. “Maybe we can reuse some of this for lunch. I’ll go ask her.”

She gathered up her dishes and James’ and left for the kitchen. Meanwhile, James continued to sip his coffee, a troubled expression appearing on his face.

He hadn’t wanted to mention it to Helen, but he was starting to get concerned about Siegfried and Tristan too. Granted, it was bad enough to be stuck with a broken down car in the middle of nowhere and to spend a night hiding out from a thunder storm, but that wasn’t the only possible explanation for what happened. And those other explanations were extremely worrying.

Sykes’ comments about how Siegfried and Tris had spent most of the day out at Gibbs’ farm and had at least one more night call to tend to came back to him. If the car had broken down after those visits…well, James couldn’t blame the two of them for not wanting to go traipsing about the moors during a torrential rain in the dark to find help. Knowing Siegfried, as soon as he could, he’d concentrate all of his energy on getting the car seen to and getting back to Skeldale rather than bother with updating people on his movements.

Still, as much as he didn’t want to think about it, James was forced to admit that other less benign reasons for the Farnon brothers’ continued absence were becoming more plausible. The same car that could have ended up broken down along an isolated road could have ended up in an accident that severely injured Siegfried or Tristan. Or both of them. And if that had happened in a remote area on the edges of Darrowby, they could still be lying somewhere hurt and in desperate need of help.

The phone rang, and James decided to let Mrs. Hall answer it. He was already facing a mountain of work with no one to help him, but even that felt like a piffling thing next to the possibility that one of his dearest friends and professional partners could be seriously hurt. A knot was beginning to form at the pit of his stomach.

A moment later, Mrs. Hall strolled into the room.

“It’s Mr. Sykes on the phone. Sounds right angry about summat.”

“All right, I’ll see to it,” James said. “Thank you, Mrs. Hall.”

Mrs. Hall gave him a quick nod and then looked at the mostly untouched platters of food, shaking her head as she began to gather up the leftovers.

Meanwhile, James heaved out a giant sigh and finished his coffee before going out into the hallway. The last thing he needed right now was some cantankerous and most likely unjustified complaint about a job Siegfried had worked on.

“Hello, Mr. Sykes. What seems to be the trouble?”

“That you, Mr. Herriot?” Sykes shouted over the line. “I’ll tell ye what the trouble is. I spent half the night waiting for your boss, Mr. Farnon, and he never showed himself.”

“Wait…he didn’t?” James said, confused. “But you said that Mr. Denham saw him leave the Gibbs’ farm late in the evening and that he was heading over to your place.”

“Nay, I didn’t say that,” Sykes scoffed. “Aye, Denham said he saw Mr. Farnon’s car. But he told me he’d seen it in the afternoon. Late afternoon like, but no later. Well, before supper anyhow. So what was he messing with that whole time that he couldn’t come out last night like young Farnon told me he would?”

“I, I don’t know,” James stuttered. “But I’m sure it was an emergency. I tell you what, I could come out in say, about an hour. Would that be all right?”

“Well I don’t know. It’s not that I think you don’t know your business, Mr. Herriot. You did all right by me when my sow was doing poorly. But my calf…well…Mr. Farnon has been watching him all along, so I don’t rightly think….”

“You don’t want to change vets in mid case,” James said.

“Aye, that’s the size of it,” Sykes said. “Look, it’s not urgent. Just tell Mr. Farnon to come out as soon as he can to look at him. He’ll know which calf it is.”

“All right, I will,” James said. “Thank you, Mr. Sykes and sorry again about the delay.”

James hung up and took a deep breath. It was unavoidable now. If Siegfried had finished up with Gibbs that early, he would have checked in if at all possible. The fact that no one had seen or heard from him or Tris since Denham had seen him leave Gibbs’ place meant that something had gone wrong. Very wrong.

“James?”

He glanced over to see Helen and Mrs. Hall standing near the kitchen doorway.

“Helen…I think we need to go to the police.”

* * *

 

There was a frantic rush as James made several more phone calls to check on Siegfried’s other clients and then as Helen and James had grabbed a few things from the house before taking off. They sped over in James’ car to the police station, leaving Mrs. Hall to stay close to the phone in case any word about the Farnons came in.

Unfortunately, the constable on duty, a Mr. Stapley who was covering for Blenkiron at the moment, didn’t appear to see any cause for the urgency they felt.

“If I’m understanding you correctly, veterinary, Mr. Farnon and his brother were called away on some jobs yesterday afternoon which you just said could take several hours apiece,” Stapley said. “So what’s to say that they’re not still out on the job now?”

“They do have to sleep some time,” James snapped. “And none of the clients they were supposed to see has had any sign of them since last evening.”

“And they would have called Skeldale by now, officer,” Helen chimed in. “Especially if they knew they would be out this long.”

“Not all the houses around here have phones,” Stapley nodded sagely. “Perhaps they got busy at a place they couldn’t call out from.”

“Not for this long they wouldn’t,” James insisted. “And I just told you that none of the clients he was supposed to have visited have heard from him.”

“Car broke down, mebbe,” Stapley replied. “Which is hardly the emergency you’re trying to make it out to be. Someone’s bound to pick them up eventually.”

“Maybe, but maybe it was more than a break down,” James said. He saw Helen’s eyes become even more anxious, but pressed on. “The weather was bad last night with that storm. What if they had gotten into an accident? They could need help.”

“Aye and suppose you are right,” Stapley said. “Where do you suggest we should look? You said they were seen driving away from Gibbs’ farm. Fine. But there’s more than one crossroad along the way between here and there, and you said they were probably going to another job. It’s a big area, Mr. Herriot, and we don’t have that many men. So again, I ask you, where should we start?”

James started to reply, but fell silent instead. His first thought was to tell Stapley to search the main road between Gibbs’ farm and Darrowby. It seems like the most logical place to start as Denham had mentioned seeing them on that road. Still, there were plenty of other places they could have gotten to after leaving Gibbs’ farm and committing to any one location would mean hours spent searching miles of countryside.

Also, if Siegfried and Tristan had been in an accident, time could crucial. What if he sent the search party down the wrong road and valuable time was wasted? Time that could mean the difference between his friends coming home and…and….

Stapley and Helen continued to stare at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. James knew that doing nothing at all would be far worse than possibly making the wrong choice. However, that did not change the enormity of his decision or the stakes involved if he failed to make the right call.

“All right, Birley, in you go.”

Everyone turned to see Blenkiron guiding another man who he referred to as Birley into the station. Birley was clearly more than a bit tipsy with his shuffling gait often switching into uncoordinated stumbling.

“I’m telling you, Constable, he threw the first punch, not I,” Birley insisted in an overly loud voice. “I was just protecting me good name from his slander.”

“All right, so what’s this about?” Stapley snorted, turning his attention away from James for the moment.

Blenkiron chuckled and shook his head. “Well, Birley here….”

“Nay, nay, let me tell it,” Birley insisted. Then he moved closer to Stapley’s desk. “I was travelin’ back from Brawton, right? In me old buggy with my mare, Marigold. A right fine mare she is too. Anyhow, I was riding back when I saw Charlie Kemp’s horse wandering in a field. Well, I knew he was missing it, so I crept up on him while he was grazing and grabbed the rope that horse was dragging around just as quick as that.”

Birley snapped his fingers and sat down heavily on the edge of Stapley’s desk.

“Well then, I just hitched her up to my buggy and guided him back to Kemp’s farm. Kemp, he was so grateful I found his horse, he gave me fifteen bob for my trouble. And then that scoundrel   
Clarke tried to say I stole that horse and cheated Kemp out of his brass when I did no such thing.”

“All right, that sounds fair enough,” Stapley nodded. “I suppose you’ve got witnesses that say Clarke struck you first.”

“Oh aye, everyone there will tell you he did,” Birley said, nodding enthusiastically. “And Kemp will tell you. I found his horse and gave it back with no thought of a reward. And Mr. Farnon, he can tell you I didn’t steal it too.”

James immediately picked up on that last statement and grabbed Birley’s arm. “Hang on, are you saying that Mr. Farnon knows about this?”

“Oh aye, he must,” Birley replied. “That horse had a leg all wrapped up when I found him, like he’d been hurt. Looked like it was new too. So I figured Mr. Farnon must have done that when he stopped alongside the road.”

“Stopped alongside the road?” James repeated. “You mean, you saw Mr. Farnon treat Kemp’s horse?”

“Well no, not exactly,” Birley said, pulling his arm away from James. He paused and scratched his head. “I didn’t see him, but I saw his car parked alongside the road. It was just getting close to dinnertime when I saw it and then I saw Kemp’s horse wandering about.”

Birley scratched his face, an indignant look returning to his features. “I ended up almost missing dinner ‘cause I returned that horse. I say, you do a good deed for someone and there’s always someone who tries to make something bad out of it. I’m telling you….”

“Please, Mr, Birley,” James interrupted. “This is very important. Did you see either Mr. Farnon or his brother anywhere nearby at any point?”

“Young Farnon?” Birley replied. “No, no I didn’t see him or Mr. Farnon. Come to think of it, I did think it was rather odd that they left the car behind. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it from what I could tell. Mind you….”

“Mr. Birley,” James said, his voice grave. “Can you show us where you found the car?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Siegfried was tired.

Several minutes had passed since further collapse of the barn and Tristan still had not moved. Siegfried had tried yelling to wake his little brother up, but Tristan remained unresponsive. Then, he tried yet again to pull himself free of the debris that had trapped his legs. It was a futile effort, Siegfried knew, but he had to try anyway.

Once he realized that it was no use, Siegfried was only left with more yelling and additional attempts to stretch his hand over to Tristan. There were a couple of times when Siegfried thought he might succeed, when his fingers were less than an inch away from his little brother’s prone form. But in the end, all he managed to do was claw at the ground next to Tristan.

By the end of it, Siegfried was taking unsteady, labored breaths. His hands shook, and another chill enveloped him. It wasn’t long before his thoughts began to drift again. When that happened, Siegfried forced himself to keep his eyes on his brother’s face so he could remember why he was struggling and why it was so urgent.

“Tristan....” he croaked, his throat dry and raw from shouting.

Another rush of nausea hit him, and Siegfried collapsed back, closing his eyes. Willing himself to not give in to the sickness. He wasn’t entirely successful, but he managed to keep his retching brief. Afterward, he let his head loll to the side, keeping his eyes closed while he panted.

_‘Why isn’t James here? He could take care of Tristan and…and no, he said he was having dinner with Helen. Or was she having dinner with him? No…no, there was a calving and, and…no. James must have done that yesterday. Yes, yesterday. It must have been yesterday. And I was supposed to be taking surgery today. So he’ll wonder where we are, won’t he? He should be here by now…shouldn’t he?’_

Siegfried ran a hand over his brow, fingers brushing across strands of hair that were stuck to his forehead. Even while lost in a jumble of thoughts, he knew that his condition was deteriorating. His fever was worse and was getting harder to remain conscious.

In fact, the only things that were keeping him awake were the burning pain in his side and his growing fear that Tristan was not going to wake up.

Siegfried coughed again, the fit lasting for a full minute. Just as it started to subside, a sound, low and indistinct, caught his attention. It took almost another minute for his feverish brain to work out that what he heard was a moan.

“Tristan?” he said between coughs. “Come on, Tristan, wake up.”

His little brother stirred, rolling up onto his side, and Siegfried let out an enormous sigh of relief.

Tristan’s brows knit together, and he grunted. “Have a heart, Siegfried,” he mumbled. “I feel ill.”

Siegfried couldn’t stop himself from smiling. His little brother sounded just like he always did after another night of carousing in one of many pubs he visited: hungover and ready to pout over his lot in life.  It was oddly comforting to hear.

“Nonsense, some fresh air will do you a world of good,” Siegfried replied, trying for his usual jocular approach to waking his brother up. “Now, get up before I find more reasons to send you out to check on Dent’s pigs, seeing as you’re the porcine expert of the firm. Speaking of which, I hear they’ll be some more piglets before long.”

Tristan moaned again and moved around even more. Eventually, his little brother’s eyes opened, blinking slowly several times. He took his time sitting up, his motions stiff and hesitant, wincing while his hands clutched at his head.

“Siegfried? What…where are…?”

Tristan’s questions were abruptly cut off when he gasped, his face suddenly becoming much paler. Then he scrambled off to the side, and Siegfried could hear him vomiting.

Siegfried frowned. No, that wasn’t good. Vomiting, head bleeding, possibly confused, definitely knocked unconscious…no, it wasn’t good at all. Tristan was hurt. More than just that gash on his forehead. Concussion, maybe? Yes, more than likely that.

Almost a minute later, Tristan finished and had crawled back over to sit next to Siegfried. Then, an unexpected anger rose up at his little brother.

“Tristan, you…you idiot!” What were you thinking?” he spat.

Tristan blinked slowly again, his hand reaching up to rub his head. “I, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!” Siegfried echoed, continuing to rage at him. “Don’t you realize what you’ve done? You could have gotten out. But now, now I’m sure that tunnel has been destroyed.”

“Probably so,” Tristan mumbled.

Siegfried’s jaw tightened. “So now there’s no way for you to escape and get help.”

“No…no, I suppose there isn’t.”

“And look at you. Now you’ve gone and let yourself get hurt.”

“I did rather,” Tristan said, leaning forward and moaning again. Worry began to creep in again as Siegfried wondered how badly his little brother had been hit by the falling debris. Worry that there were more injuries besides the obvious one on his head.

Worry that fueled his anger even more.

“I told you to focus on getting out first and then we’d deal with the rest of it later. But you didn’t listen to me. You never listen to me.”

“I know…. I’m sorry.”

Siegfried sighed and fell back against the ground. All the rage he felt evaporated. It wasn’t difficult to guess what Tristan had been thinking when he chose to stay behind. His mind wasn’t so addled by fever that he couldn’t figure out that he probably would have been hurt even more if his little brother hadn’t shielded him from the wreckage. His little brother’s motives were transparent, as usual.

He ground his jaw, despair replacing his anger. He could hear Tristan moan again, the sound making his hands curl into fists. Of all the times when his little brother could choose to not be a coward and allow the noble side of his nature to take over, why did it have to be now? When doing so meant putting his own life in significant peril.

Peril that could have been so easily avoided.

Siegfried gulped and opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, his surroundings were like smeared paint on a canvas. He shuddered and soon realized that he was starting to shiver again.

Worst of all, he was barely holding onto consciousness. Siegfried suspected that he would probably pass out again soon. Only this time, he wasn’t sure he would have the strength to wake up again.

A stabbing heat suddenly ran through him. It was that wound again. Tristan had done everything he could, but was still infected. Siegfried was certain of that. And the infection was spreading. It would move into nearby tissues and organs and eventually would get into his blood. Once that happened…it wouldn’t be long before it was over.

Siegfried opened his eyes again, blinking slowly and deliberately in an effort to correct his vision. Ever since he had first woken up in this barn, the thought that he could die was always in the back of his mind. It’d become even more salient when he asked Tristan to suture his wound, despite his confidence in his little brother’s skills.

God, that seemed like such a long time ago even though it couldn’t have been. A day? A couple of days ago? Couldn’t have been more than that….

Still, there had been some hope. Tristan had done an excellent job taking care of his wound considering the conditions he had to work in. it had given him more time. And there was always the hope that someone would find them. James and Helen, most likely. Or that Tristan would find a way out and go find help. Yes, he knew he could rely on Tristan for that. Little brother didn’t tend to make mistakes when it really mattered.

Now though…it was hopeless. Someone would have come by before now if they were going to. Tristan…no there was no way for him to get out now. No safe way, anyway.

Siegfried swallowed hard. There were no chances left. He was going to die.

Just as he started to force himself to accept this fact, his was struck with a flood of other thoughts. Thoughts of all the things he couldn’t attend to now.

What of the practice? Of Skeldale House? James was a partner. He could legally take over, but was he ready? A vet with only a little over a year of professional experience? Would he be able to keep the business afloat on his own? What if he couldn’t?

And what about Helen? What about the new family that James was making for himself? Would they be all right? What about Mrs. Hall? If the practice went under, where would she go? She’d been preparing a ham for him and now he wouldn’t be there to eat it. Oh, how he hated to disappoint her.

The dogs? Would they be all right? Who would make sure they were fed properly and that they were walked and given as much care as they needed? And there was that operation he promised to do one of Beamish’s horses. Who would do it now?

The list of responsibilities continued to grow, overwhelming Siegfried. The thought of leaving so much unfinished and uncertain made his heart ache. He wished to God that he could talk to James and give him just a little more instruction and advice to guide him.

No. No, he would have to just trust that James would manage. He must be able to. James would get by. He’d find a way. And he still had Tristan to….

Siegfried’s heart dropped again. Who would look after his little brother? Tristan might be grown in years, but he still needed so much minding. He still wasn’t qualified. Who would see to it that it happened eventually? Who would keep an eye on the people who attached themselves to Tristan? People who would use him if given an inch of opportunity. Who would keep him out of trouble? And then who would clean up the mess when trouble finally did happen?

It couldn’t be James. James was a responsible, sensible fellow and a wonderful friend to Tristan. But James would have far too many other things to take care to mind Tristan. Mother? Mother meant well and loved Tristan, but she never seemed able to give Tristan the guidance and support he truly needed.

Who would take care of Tristan now? That is, if Tristan…if he….

Siegfried shivered even more, shaking his head as he did. He couldn’t let himself think about Tristan not making it out of this barn. Someone would have to find the car and would eventually find this place. Little brother would be all right. He had to be.

Problem was, Siegfried knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on long enough to be certain that it was true.

Another soft moan from his little brother caught his attention, and Siegfried turned his head to watch him. The cut near his temple was the most obvious injury, but Siegfried figured that there were others he couldn’t see. At the very least, his little brother was probably thoroughly banged up from all the debris falling onto him.

All because he had stayed behind and had tried to protect his elder brother.

Siegfried’s vision swam again, but an unexpected thought suddenly gave him focus. He remembered a visit to his mother about a month ago. An old family friend, Mrs. Ellington had come to visit as well, and Siegfried had overheard a piece of a conversation Mother was having with her.

_“Sometimes…oh, I can hardly bear to say it…sometimes, I just can’t look at Tristan. At my own son. It’s so terrible, but I….it’s just…he’s so much like Edward….”_

At the time, Siegfried couldn’t fathom how Mother could say or even think that. True, Tristan did bear a strong physical resemblance to their late father: same tall, thin frame, same toothy smile, even the same sandy blond hair that got darker as he got older. Still, Siegfried couldn’t see anything else about his little brother that reminded him of Father. No, Tristan just looked like him is all. They weren’t even remotely the same.

However, staring at Tristan now, his brother quiet and serious, lines of pain and weariness etched into the spaces near his eyes…pain and weariness he had because he was trying so hard to take care of his older brother…Siegfried couldn’t help but see a strong echo of their father in Tristan. A father he still missed so much to this day and who he often wished Tristan could have known.

Especially now, as Siegfried was certain that Father would be so proud, so very proud, of his younger son.

“Tristan….”

Tristan’s head shot up and he grimaced immediately afterward. Then he scooted closer to Siegfried, placing a hand onto his brother’s shoulder.

“Siegfried? What is it? Do you…?”

Siegfried placed a shaking hand onto Tristan’s forearm. “Don’t…don’t sit around here for too long. Find a way out. You, you’ve got too much to do. You and James. James…Tristan, you listen to James. He’ll know what to do. You listen and you help him. And Helen and Mrs. Hall. Don’t you upset her. You understand, Tristan?”

“All right,” Tristan said, nodding. “I won’t. But Siegfried….”

“Hush, little brother, hush,” Siegfried interrupted. He squeezed Tristan’s arm and let his eyes shut, the lids just too heavy to keep open any longer.

“Work hard. Work hard and you’ll get there. You’ll become qualified. Just stop arsing about. You, you’ll be a fine vet. I know you will.”

“Siegfried….”

Tristan’s voice sounded so far away. How was that possible? Wasn’t he right next to him? Siegfried curled his fingers around something he hoped was still Tristan’s arm.

“Tristan…take care…little brother….”

Then there was nothing as the blackness overwhelmed all of his senses.


	10. Chapter 10

Tristan stared at Siegfried’s still, unconscious form for several moments before finally realizing that he was worried.

Of course, he’d been worried for his elder brother for a while now. Ever since he’d found him injured and trapped by the debris in the barn. However, his worry had increased dramatically while Siegfried was talking to him a couple moments ago. Although he couldn’t put his finger on why. It had taken almost all of his concentration just to focus on what Siegfried was telling him, leaving no room for working out why he was feeling anxious about it.

Tristan’s eyebrows knit together. Maybe it was because Siegfried was upset. Even with the ceaseless pounding in his brain, it hadn’t been difficult to figure out that Siegfried had been angry at him again. Probably because he hadn’t done what his elder brother had told him to do. Siegfried was rather tyrannical that way. Tristan knew he could have tried explaining that he had fully intended on getting out of this barn and had only changed his mind at the very last second.

That second when fears for Siegfried’s safety had triggered a change of heart.

Then again, what was the point of explaining? Siegfried would still be furious anyway. Not that that bothered Tristan all that much. He was certain that he would make the same decision again if given the opportunity no matter how angry Siegfried would get at him.

The pounding in Tristan’s head increased, causing him to close his eyes in an effort to blot out the pain. Siegfried did have a point though. It would have been nice to avoid that blow to the head. Or any of the other blows he received elsewhere. Right now, Tristan felt like a giant, throbbing bruise and was still unsure if he had any broken bones or not. Yes, it really would have been nice to not ache in just about every part of his body.

Thankfully, Siegfried hadn’t remained enraged for long. In fact, he had calmed down rather quickly. He’d been kind with his words, gentle even. Encouraging. It wasn’t the sort of talk he heard from Siegfried often these days. Of course, Siegfried couldn’t stop himself from adding in a lecture about listening to James and not upsetting Mrs. Hall and such. That still rankled Tristan as he knew he did that stuff already. Well, most of the time he did.

_“…take care…little brother….”_

Tristan’s eyes snapped open, a movement he immediately regretted as it sent more pain shooting into his skull. However, that ache wasn’t enough to cloud his realization that that was what had been bothering him. Why did Siegfried say that? It wasn’t like either of them was going anywhere now. Not with all the ways out blocked. Tristan wasn’t going to leave him, and Siegfried…he was just resting now.

So why had Siegfried made a point of wishing him well? And why did his words have so much…finality to them?

Unless…unless…Siegfried was….

Suddenly, Tristan’s throat was tight, like it was being squeezed, and his heart sped up. He scrambled even closer to Siegfried and grabbed his arm, giving it a firm shake.

“Siegfried?” Tristan choked out. There was no response, and his panic rose up even more. “Siegfried! Siegfried, wake up. Come on, wake up. Please, Siegfried….”

When shaking didn’t work, Tristan tried patting Siegfried’s cheek several times and then rubbing the back of his hand. However, none of it had any effect. His brother did not stir at all. There wasn’t even a twitch of movement from the inert body lying beside him.

Tristan felt nauseous again, but fought the urge to vomit so he could continue to search for any signs of life. Breathing? Maybe. Tristan was almost sure that he had felt a slight movement in Siegfried’s chest, but he couldn’t be certain with the way his own hands were shaking.

A pulse. That would tell him for sure. Tristan frantically pushed his fingers onto Siegfried’s wrist, but couldn’t find one. Not that that meant anything. The neck was always better anyway. Tristan fumbled with his brother’s shirt collar, moving it out of the way so he could check again for a heartbeat.

He tried over and over again, his anxiety causing the shaking to migrate from his hands to the rest of his body, until, suddenly; he caught a trace of something. It was faint and uneven, but it was there. An unsteady heartbeat.

It only comforted Tristan for a moment though because Siegfried’s pulse also seemed to be getting weaker by the second. Yes, Siegfried was alive, but only just. That heartbeat wouldn’t last. His brother was dying.

And now, there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

Tristan gasped, the fear making him feel as if he was underwater, struggling to draw breath. He crawled over to the nearest gap in the wreckage of one of the barn walls and started yelling again.

“Help! Someone? Anyone? Please, we’re trapped in here. My brother needs help. Please!”

Tristan shouted over and over, his cries growing less and less articulate as he continued. He didn’t know how long he kept at it. It felt like hours, but it also could have been just a few minutes. His head hurt far too much to work it out.

What he was able to figure out eventually was that it was no use. No one answered him. No one appeared. All that was there was the same quiet, sloping hills with only the rustle of the wind weaving through bushes and tall grass. The only movement was the sun slowly sinking and fading in the late afternoon.

Tristan finally gave up, falling forward and propping himself up with his hands spread along the ground. It wouldn’t be long before it got dark again. The chances of anyone finding them in this barn would drop to almost nothing.

In fact, he was starting to wonder if anyone would find them in the near future. Hadn’t anyone missed them by now? Didn’t anyone realize or even care that something dreadful had happened to them? None of it made sense.

The only thing that was clear to Tristan was that Siegfried would not survive another night here.

Tristan shuddered and moved back to sit beside Siegfried. He still didn’t regret staying behind to protect his brother, but he couldn’t ignore the doubts that were starting to creep in. Doubts over whether or not he had done the right thing after all. Doubts which were starting to convince him that he had made another mistake, the latest in a series of them.

Mistakes that were going to cost Siegfried his life.

He reached for his brother’s hand, curling his fingers around Siegfried’s. Tristan flinched at how limp and cold Siegfried’s fingers were. For a moment, Tristan didn’t know what else he could do. His head was aching too much to think of any sort of plan.

Then Tristan startled himself by starting to cry.

He clenched his free hand tight against his thigh, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to put a stop to his tears, but once they started, Tristan lost control. He was too tired, sore, cold, and miserable to put in the needed effort to stop it.

Most of all, he was scared. Of losing Siegfried. Of what his own fate would be. Normally, when he was this anxious, Tristan knew he could go to Siegfried for advice or even just for security. The thought that he was going to lose that stable, caring presence in his life compounded his grief.

A fresh wave of pain made Tristan cover his face with his hands. He was starting to feel sick again. That blow to the head must have been bad. It hurt worse than any hangover he could remember. Well…almost all of them. There were the really bad ones that were made worse by Siegfried yelling at him.

Eventually, Tristan lifted his head and swiped at his eyes. If only someone would help. Like James. Surely, James would help if he was here. But why wasn’t he here?

“Tris?”

Tristan started and blinked hard. Odd. It was almost like he heard James’ voice a second ago. It probably was just in his head, but it really had sounded so real.

“Tris? Siegfried? Are you all right?”

Tristan rubbed his eyes. There it was again. No, no that wasn’t quite the same. It hadn’t been James that time. It almost sounded like Helen. Yes, it could have been her. It was perfectly natural that she’d be wherever James was.

He sniffed hard. It would be nice to see James and Helen again. He loved both of them. They’d become part of the family he had with Siegfried. How he wished they really were here and weren’t just inside his head.

“Siegfried? Where are you?”

Tristan furrowed his brow. Those voices were getting louder. Almost like they were moving toward him. But that couldn’t be unless…unless it actually was them. James and Helen looking for them.

He scrambled back to the hole in the wall. “James? James, over here! James, please.”

For a few breathless seconds, there was no reply. Tristan felt his despair rise up again. Then, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see figures running toward him. Then, in what seemed like less than a minute, James’ face appeared right outside the gap.

“Tris? My god, Tris, are you all right?”               

Tristan grinned even as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. “James….um, yes, I mean, no, I…James, it’s Siegfried. He’s been hurt. Badly. And now he won’t wake up. And I don’t know if, if he’s….”

“Tristan, listen, it will be all right,” James replied in a remarkably calm voice. “We’re going to get you out of there. Hold on.”

Tristan nodded, his smile vanishing when James disappeared from view. Panic tightened his throat and he was about to call out for James again when Helen showed up in front of him.

“Oh Tris, thank goodness,” she said. “What happened?”

“Helen.” Tristan gulped and took a shaky breath. “There was this horse, and it ran in here. Then the barn fell apart and….” His voice cracked, and Tristan swallowed a couple of times.

“Helen, please, Siegfried…he needs help. I, I tried, but I couldn’t….”

He tried to say more, but by this point, his voice trembled and squeaked, his words coming out in jumbled blubbering. It didn’t help that it hurt too much to think his words through before saying them.

Tristan gasped in surprise when he suddenly felt fingers brush his cheek. It took him several seconds to realize that Helen had managed to reach her hand in and touch his face.

“Shh, it will be all right, Tristan,” she soothed. “We’ll get both of you out of there soon.”

Helen gently stroked his cheek a couple of more times before starting to pull her hand back. Tristan reached up for it before she could draw it out.

“Helen, please hurry. Siegfried, he….”

“I know. We’ll get help for him too. Don’t worry.”

Tristan sniffed hard and let her go. His tears were finally drying up, but now he was able to notice how much he was shivering again. And there was the nausea he had tried to suppress earlier.

“Tris? Tris, are you all right?”

Tristan gulped, but that wasn’t enough to get rid of the bile in his throat. “Helen, I…no….”

He ducked down and leaned to the side. He gagged and heaved multiple times, but by this point, he had nothing left to vomit other than dribbles of thick saliva. It only took a minute for the gagging to stop, but the shivering continued.

When he was finished, Tristan sat back up, placing his fingers around the edges of the hole in the wall.

“Helen, please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Helen said firmly. “I promise, James and I are staying right here.”

* * *

 Thirty minutes later, Blenkiron showed up with Michael Kemp, a farmer who had a fairly large place only about a mile away from the wreck of the barn. Kemp had come with several of his men in a pair of trucks which were loaded with equipment James assumed would be used to get the Farnons out.

James stared at the ruins, his face locked in a grim expression. He couldn’t see a safe way to get Tristan out of there and couldn’t even imagine how they were going to rescue Siegfried. His worry increased as Tristan continued to be highly agitated and emotional while not a sound came from Siegfried.

However, as Kemp and his men inspected the barn, James felt as if there was a gleam of confidence in the farmers’ eyes.

“Aye, it won’t be an easy job, but we can manage it,” Kemp finally said. “Mind, there’ll be nawt left of this barn when it’s over.”

“But can you get them out safely?” James asked. “Tristan said that Siegfried is trapped under a pair of ceiling beams.”

“Aye, that is summat to be sure,” Kemp said, scratching his head. “We’ll just need to be quick about it. Come on, lads.”

The farmers nodded and went over to clear the loose debris from around what was probably the entrance of the barn. As soon as a path was open, they propped up what was left of the walls with logs and spare boards and then tied rope to them so the men could hold the supports fast.

“Here now,” Kemp said, waving James over. “Ye go in and get young Farnon out first. It’d be best if he were out of the way when we go in for his brother.”

“Right,” James nodded. He hesitated for a second as the walls creaked again, but then ducked down and rushed in through the opening that had been made for him.

Once he was inside, he found Tristan sitting close to Siegfried who was lying still on the ground. Tris had his legs folded close to him, his face pressed up against his knees and his hands clasped onto his legs. There were shivers coursing through his body, and James heard muffled sounds of distress.

Meanwhile, Siegfried was deathly still, partially covered by Tristan’s jacket. His face was ashen and slack. James could only detect a very slight movement in his chest. When he moved closer, he swallowed hard upon seeing the edges of bandages covering a wound in Siegfried’s side.

James placed a hand onto Tristan’s shoulder. “Come on, Tris. Let’s get you out of here. I’ll get your bags.”

Tristan looked up at him, confused, before backing away.

“James? No, no, I can’t. Siegfried, I can’t leave him.”

“We’ll get him out too, I promise. Now come on, Tris.”

James grabbed the two vet bags with one hand and then wrapped his arm around Tristan’s waist as he helped him to stand up. He had already noticed the way that Tris was slurring his words on and off. Now that he was in the barn, James got a better look at Tristan’s waxy pallor and the gash on his temple. He was certain that Tris had a concussion. Thus, he didn’t take it personally when Tristan squirmed to get away from him and had elbowed him a few times in the process.

Eventually, he managed to haul Tristan out of the barn and guided him to where Helen was sitting on the edge of the back of one of the trucks. As soon as she saw Tris, she rushed over to James’ car and got out a quilt she had brought from Skeldale. Helen draped it around Tristan’s shoulders and wrapped it close as she sat down beside him.

James placed his hands on Tristan’s shoulders. “Tris, stay here. We’re going to get Siegfried out now. So wait here with Helen.”

Tristan nodded, his eyes staring blankly at nothing as he continued to tremble. James patted his arms and trotted back over to where the men were working. Every once in a while, he’d glance back to see Helen stroking Tristan’s arm and talking to him softly. However, it was clear that Tristan was only partially aware of what was going on around him.

“Mr. Herriot, ye better get ready,” Kemp called out. “We’re getting ready to get Mr. Farnon out and I don’t know how much longer this old barn is going stand.”

James nodded and readied himself for the sprint inside. He knew that, even if they worked quickly, this was going to be dangerous. Still, there was no question of whether or not he would do everything he could to get Siegfried to safety as well.

Nevertheless, his nerves crackled as the groans from what was left of the barn grew louder. It certainly didn’t help that the look on Kemp’s face suddenly became much more troubled.

“All right lads, ye got it steady,” Kemp shouted. “Now get in there.”

James rushed back inside with three of Kemp’s workers close behind him. They gathered around Siegfried, and two of larger men worked together to haul the beams over Siegfried away. Once they were cleared, James and the third farmer grabbed Siegfried by his arms and legs so they could drag him out of the barn.

As he pulled, James gasped for air, sweat streaming down his forehead from the desperate scramble for that opening. The walls were reverberating with a snapping sound, as if they were falling to pieces as they moved.

“It’ll not hold much longer!” Kemp yelled.

James took a deep breath and summoned up one last burst of effort as he and the farmer lifted Siegfried up and yanked him out of the barn. The other two farmers hustled out second behind them. Once they were all clear, James fell to his knees and watched the barn sway.

A moment later, the remains completely gave way. The roof appeared to shatter into an explosion of wood and shingles as it snapped in half. The supports that had been put in place by Kemp’s men fell apart and crashed inward. What had been a smashed wreck of a barn had turned into an unrecognizable heap of debris.

James felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Blenkiron crouched down beside him, a makeshift gurney that was made out of a flat square of wood having suddenly appeared.

“I’ll get Mr. Farnon to the hospital,” Blenkiron said, motioning for one of the men to help him ease Siegfried onto the gurney. “You take care of young Farnon. He probably could stand a going over from a quack too.”

James nodded, placing a hand on Siegfried’s arm before Siegfried was taken away toward Blenkiron’s car. He’d been unnerved by how cold Siegfried was and silently prayed that they weren’t too late already.

“Siegfried! Siegfried!”

James leapt to his feet and dashed over toward the trucks. There, he saw Tristan trying to pull off Helen’s hold on his arm so he could run over to the wreck. James moved in front of Tristan and grabbed his upper arms.

“Tris! Tris, listen to me. It’s all right,” he insisted. “We got Siegfried out of there. Blenkiron is taking him to the hospital now.”

Tristan stopped struggling and stared at him, his mouth slightly open. James was certain that he could actually see Tristan try to comprehend what he had just been told.

“Hospital?”

James patted his shoulder. “Yes, Tris. Blenkiron is taking Siegfried there. The doctors will take care of him.”

He spoke slowly and as calmly as he could so as to not upset Tristan any more. A few seconds later, he was relieved to see Tristan settle down.

“And speaking of which, we should get you to the hospital too, Tris,” he continued. “You look ghastly.”

“Come on, Tris,” Helen said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “You can ride with James and I’ll follow in Siegfried’s car.”

Tristan turned toward him. “James? Oh right, I’ll…we should….” He took a step and stumbled. He would have fallen down if James and Helen hadn’t held him upright.

James’ brow furrowed. “Tris?”

Tristan turned dull, vacant eyes toward him. “James…sorry. I, I don’t know if I can….”

Tristan’s eyes rolled back as he legs gave way, and he sank to the ground unconscious.


	11. Chapter 11

Two hours later, James sat on the edge of a wooden chair in the waiting area of the hospital, his posture rigid.

As he looked around the place with weary, impatient eyes, he considered the irony of this place being designated as a spot for people to wile away their time as they waited for news of their loved ones who were being treated. The chairs creaked at even the slightest movement. Movement that was inevitable as they seemed to have been crafted for use by misshapen statues than actual people. The walls were mostly bare and were painted with a bland off-putting color that reminded James of melted custard that had started to turn. There were a couple of framed prints of landscapes that depicted the scenery of the Dales as smeared blobs of dingy colors. He imagined it was how dogs with cataracts saw their surroundings. The magazines that sat on a scuffed end table were tattered with months, if not years, of use.

Altogether, it was one of the last places that people would willingly choose to spend an extended amount of time in. Thus, James was grateful for Helen’s presence as he was sure he’d go mad while waiting for any word about the condition of both Farnon brothers.

A squeeze to his hand drew James’ gaze away from the floor and over to his wife’s anxious face. He could guess what she was thinking and feeling as he imagined it was very similar to what he was grappling with.

After the two of them helped Tristan into James’ car, James had sped to the hospital. Tristan did not wake up once during the entire trip which worried James even more. When he arrived, a pair of nurses were waiting for him at the entrance with a wheelchair. Tristan had just started to come around when he had parked the car, but was still disoriented. James tried his best to reassure him while helping him into the wheelchair and walking with him into the hospital, but he wasn’t sure how much good it did.  Once they were inside, James watched helplessly as Tristan was wheeled down a side corridor, an anxious, confused look on his best friend’s face.

Then came the unpleasant task of inquiring about Siegfried, a task that haunted him ever since he got a glimpse of his friend and partner in the barn.  

After getting a brief, guarded update, he sat down to wait. Helen arrived a few minutes later after one of the constables helped her drop Siegfried’s car off at Skeldale, inform Mrs. Hall of what had happened, and then take her here.

When she did arrive, James didn’t know what to tell her. He’d seen where a wound had been bandaged up and was certain that it was serious. He also knew that Tristan would have had to treat it with whatever they had had on hand in their bags. If there had been any surgery involved, there would have been no anesthetic, a thought that turned James’ stomach. Both because of the trauma Siegfried would have endured and because Tristan would have had to operate on his own brother in the worst possible conditions.

The fact was, James wasn’t sure at this point that Siegfried would survive. The thought continued to take up space in his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to put it into words. Some irrational part of him still believed that keeping it to himself might be just enough to prevent a tragedy from happening.

However, it also created a lonely turmoil in James’ heart. Still, he was perfectly willing to endure it on his own if it led to even the slightest chance that Siegfried’s life would be spared.

“I wish they would tell us something,” Helen sighed. “About Siegfried. Or Tris. Poor Tris. He was so upset. He must be beside himself by now.”

James clasped her hand. “I know. Hopefully they will be able to tell us something before too long.”

“James…you don’t think that he…that Siegfried is…that that’s why Tris was so upset….”

“No, no darling,” James assured her. “I talked to the nurse when I got here with Tris and she said that Siegfried was still alive when they took him into surgery. No, I’m sure the concussion Tris got is the reason why he was acting like that. You saw that gash on his temple. He must have had a nasty blow to the head. And concussions can sometimes cause people to be hysterical.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Helen said. “Oh but James, are you sure that Tristan will be all right then?”

“Yes, I’m sure he will be,” James hastened to assure her. “He probably just needs some rest and care. It probably didn’t do him any good to be stuck in that drafty barn with nothing to eat or drink. And with a concussion on top of it all…I’m sure he feels poorly now, but he’ll get better after getting some attention here.”

“And Siegfried? James, Tris said he was hurt badly. Is…is it as bad as…?”

James put his arm around Helen, drawing her closer. It was tempting to evade the question, to try and shield her and maybe himself from the painful reality of the situation.

But when he tried to think of something to say to placate her, the words would not come. It felt too much like lying, and right now, James was certain that none of them would benefit from the distance lying would inevitably create between them.

“I only got a short look at his injury, but…yes, I’m sure it’s bad. There were a lot of bandages on his side and any wounds he has are probably infected. I imagine the doctors are operating on him now to disinfect the tissue and surrounding areas in order to contain the infection and to put in new sutures.”

“New sutures…you mean, Siegfried had already been operated on? But how…oh, oh James…not Tris….”

James nodded slowly, his heart growing heavier as he watched Helen’s eyes well up with tears. For a moment, he thought she was going to say something else. Instead she shook her head and turned her gaze to the floor, her fingers curling tighter around his. He joined her in this anxious silence, not knowing what else he could say.

Eventually, a nurse appeared in front of them, causing both of them to blink in surprise.

“I thought you should know that Mr. Farnon, um Mr. Tristan Farnon, is resting in his room now.”

“Oh thank you,” Helen said, her expression brightening. “How is he?”

“Well, the doctor’s main concern is the concussion,” the nurse answered. “But so far, he appears to have his reason and most of his memory intact. Mind, he is feeling quite off-color right now, but that’s to be expected.”

“Of course,” Helen nodded. “He’s dreadfully worried about his brother.”

“Yes, he mentioned his brother several times while we were treating him,” the nurse replied. “We tried to explain to him that we’re doing everything we can for him, but I’m not sure he entirely understood that. Hopefully, by tomorrow, things will become clearer to him.”

“Apart from that, how is he?” James asked.

“For the most part, yes,” the nurse answered. “He does have a mild case of exposure. Apparently, he didn’t dress properly for an extended stay outdoors and now he has a chill.”

James shook his head. He’d seen Tris’ coat draped onto Siegfried and was certain that Tris had given it up that first night the two of them were trapped in that barn.

“He is also a bit weak from lack of food, water, and rest,” she continued. “Still, he is young and strong, so he should recover quickly from all that. The doctor did recommend some additional rest once he leaves the hospital.”

“What about his brother?” Helen asked. “Mr. Siegfried Farnon? Do they…do they know yet if he will…?”

“The other Mr. Farnon is still in surgery,” the nurse replied. “I’m afraid all I can say is that his condition is critical. I am sorry, but that is all I know. But as soon as he is able to spare a moment, I will let the doctor know that you wish to speak to him.”

“Thank you,” James said. “Can we see Mr. Farnon…Tristan…now?”

“I’m sorry, but not tonight,” she said. “We are keeping Mr. Farnon here to monitor him in case there are any complications from his concussion. This will involve waking him every couple of hours and examining him. So we would prefer that he be allowed to sleep as much as possible whenever he can. However, I’m sure you can visit him tomorrow.”

James and Helen thanked her again and watched silently as the nurse took off down a side corridor. The two of them shared a pensive look and sat back down in their chairs.

Each of them preparing themselves for another long wait.

* * *

 

Once he had been allowed to settle into a bed, Tristan didn’t want to open his eyes. Not really.

Opening his eyes meant becoming more aware of the pounding headache that was tormenting his brain. Not that it went away completely with his eyes closed. But opening them did make it worse as the harsh hospital lighting flooded his eyes. It was bad enough putting up with the jumbled, intermittent noises from elsewhere in the recovery room that never really stopped.

No, if he had his choice, he’d stay under his bed sheets, curled up on his side. Silent, unmoving and purposely unaware of the rest of the world.

The problem was, no one was going to allow him to do that. Every time he had started to drift into unconsciousness, another nurse would show up to wake him and check his vitals or ask him a bunch of questions. Sometimes, the questions changed or at least, Tristan didn’t remember answering them before. At this point, he wasn’t too sure of the reliability of his own memory.

The one thing he was certain of was that, every time he tried to ask one of these nurses about Siegfried, he got the same vague answer: that he was in surgery and it was too soon to know anything. That answer frustrated Tristan as it told him nothing while also managing to fuel the worry that was eating away at him whenever his mind was clear enough to think about what had happened.

Shuffling footsteps made Tristan groan and turn his face into his pillow. The nurses who had visited him had all been lovely in their own ways, but he was tired of their constant prodding and questioning. He just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t they let him sleep?

“Mr. Farnon.”

Tristan blinked hard. That voice had a distinctly masculine sound to it. So, not another nurse then.

“Mr. Farnon.”

Tristan did his best to suppress a groan. He didn’t want to move, but there no hint of a question in this man’s voice. It was clearly a command for him to wake up.

He slowly crept out from under his blankets and turned his face toward the sound. After blinking several more times, his bleary eyes finally could focus on the face next to his bed. The man looked young, not much older than him, with thinning brown hair and a long face with sharp features. A pair of stern grey eyes was his most prominent feature, eyes that were studying him with obvious disapproval.

“I’m Doctor Geoff Halpin,” the man said. “I’m assisting Doctor Holt who is currently operating on your brother.”

Tristan scrambled to sit up. Now that he was fully awake, he noticed the surgical gown Halpin was wearing. And the blood that was smeared onto it.

“My brother, how is he?” he babbled. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He is very weak, but stable at the moment,” Halpin said. “Mr. Farnon, there isn’t time to go over your brother’s condition right now. The fact is, we are facing a crisis. The operation is taking longer than we had anticipated and we are running low on blood that matches your brother’s blood type. So I’m here to ask if you know if you share your brother’s blood type.”

Tristan ran a hand over his face. “Um, I think so. Wait, no, yes I do. Do you need some of mine? You can have it. Take as much as you want. Anything to help Siegfried to…um….”

“Yes, well, I think I should test it before the doctor gives it to him,” Halpin said. “If it does match, we will need a couple of pints from you. It’s more than we would like to ask for, given your condition, but as I said, this is a crisis and the additional blood will be vital.”

“I understand,” Tristan said, nodding, “Take whatever you need.”

Halpin nodded at a nurse who pulled out a syringe. Tristan hissed as the sting of the needle entered his arm.

“We are having to cut away the stitches your brother already had when he came in,” Halpin continued while the nurse drew the blood. “It seems someone operated on him before he arrived. A right bloody hash was made of it too. The wound wasn’t cleaned properly at all. Even if the trauma doesn’t kill him, sepsis or peritonitis still could.”

Tristan lowered his eyes. “I tried. Honest, I tried. There, there just wasn’t any way to….”

“Are you saying you’re the one who tried to operate on that wound?” Halpin said.

Tristan nodded. When he built up the courage to look up again, he saw that the doctor was eyeing him coldly.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Um, no, I’m a vet. Well…sort of. I’m not actually qualified yet, but I almost am.”

“Bloody hell,” Halpin muttered. He took the vial of blood the nurse had extracted and stepped to the side with her. “Go ahead and take two pints of blood. If this matches, we will need it right away.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the nurse said.

The two of them left the room with the nurse returning a few moments later with a stand and a tray of materials, including two bottles for the blood.

“All right, Mr. Farnon, try to relax,” she said. “This will take a while.”

Tristan nodded and slid down in his bed so he could lie on his back. He turned his face to the wall and ignored all attempts by the nurse to engage him in small talk while she worked. Eventually, she fell silent while she waited for each bottle to fill.

The truth was, Tristan couldn’t blame Halpin for being disgusted over how Siegfried’s injuries had been handled up to this point. His brother had needed professional treatment, and instead, he’d been stuck with a struggling vet student. True, there hadn’t been any other options, and Siegfried would have died without some kind of immediate attention.

Still, there was this persistent belief that maybe if he had been a qualified vet or even just a better student, Siegfried would have a better chance of surviving.

A flush of sickening warmth washed over him and Tristan felt woozy. Probably this damn concussion again. Or maybe all the blood they were taking from him. Tristan couldn’t be sure nor did he really care.

All he could think about at the moment was that Siegfried was in surgery, and that his condition was serious.

Tristan closed his eyes. What if he had made a mistake? A sloppy stitch which had allowed Siegfried to continue to bleed internally. Or forgetting to disinfect something that could have worsened the inevitable infection. So many things could have gone wrong with this operation which was going to be problematic to begin with. It was why he had needed to be so careful. Because of the risks he…no, Siegfried…was already facing.

“All right, Mr. Farnon, I’m starting to draw the second pint now,” the nurse said.

Tristan nodded to show he had heard, but still didn’t speak. At the time, he had thought he had been careful. That he had made sure to check everything and had worked cautiously and conscientiously. Operations of any kind were always something he was meticulous about.

But right now, he simply could not be certain that he had been as thorough as he had thought he had been. And even if he had, did he really have the skill needed to even attempt an operation like that?

Tristan took a shuddering breath. None of this really mattered. It didn’t matter if he had done everything right procedurally or if he had operated with just enough skill to keep Siegfried alive until they got to a hospital. It didn’t matter at all if he could be considered blameless for the actions he took to save his brother.

None of it meant anything if Siegfried died.

“Mr. Farnon, we’re finished for now,” the nurse told him. “Just rest and someone will be back to check on you in a little while. Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No,” Tristan croaked, turning back onto his side. Seconds later, he heard footsteps leave the room.

He could try going back to sleep. He was certainly tired enough for sleep, even sleep that wouldn’t be given a chance to become anything truly substantive.

Unfortunately, Tristan was certain that it wasn’t just going to be the nurses that would keep him awake tonight.


End file.
